


Mosaics

by spaceconspiracy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anorexia, Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorders, Loosely inspired by my mad fat diary 10/10 watch it, M/M, Off-Screen Suicide Attempt, Rewrite, Underage Drinking, accidental misgendering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceconspiracy/pseuds/spaceconspiracy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Boys don't get eating disorders. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(aka Putting yourself back together is a lot harder than falling apart, but he's trying his best, and that emo kid Levi "must really like you, Eren.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so nervous jesus
> 
> Okay so this is a rewrite of a fic I wrote about a year ago that was liked enough but I didn't like the direction I had taken, the characterisation, blah blah blah, needless to say the work was orphaned and I set to work RE-writing it and so here we are today woohoo. If you really desperately curious about the original I orphaned the work so it's floating on this website somewhere under the same title and similar tags but 0/10 please don't read it if you don't have to.
> 
> Second DO N O T take the trigger warnings lightly as all those are very, this fic focuses heavily on eating disorders and depression. I will put helpful links in the end notes! I'll also be putting individual trigger warnings before any chapters as well~* As such, if there's anything at all you find GLARINGLY OFFENSIVE please do let me know so I can remedy it. 
> 
> Third and finally, you can find me over at roguearmin.tumblr for questions, comments, concerns, etc. As said this is in fact a rewrite but they are so different that it astounds me there's only a few similarities, really. This one is much better I promise. I read over it and edited it about 7 times but still let me know if there’s any errors.
> 
> Okay, fanfic ahoy~*

Eren doesn’t know when it started. He doesn’t think there even is a start. He just fell into it the way people fall into habits or traditions; a steady decline.

 

He thinks maybe it’s just hardwired into his DNA - some sick God pieced him together and then wrote down on a sticky pad, “By the way, make sure you add a big ol’ chunk of ‘fucked up’, yeah, that’s good.”  Feeling _fucked up_ is as much a part of him as his hands or his allergy to bananas.

 

He didn’t even know there was a _name_ for it, for the slow obsession that took every other part of Eren’s life and rolled it all up into a ball like Play-Doh before obliterating them completely.

 

He didn’t know, not until one of those Tuesday’s in PE class when they’re blessed with the classroom instead of the track, the teacher trying to hush some kid’s obnoxious laughter from the back of the classroom and scolding another for trying to sneak a piece of pizza to his girlfriend in the front row. The sight of it made him sick. It always does.

 

Those informative videos they showed on these blessed Tuesday’s, about teen suicide and puberty and this and that were never more than part of the curriculum. Eren’s pretty sure they never stuck in _anyone’s_ head, let alone his, not until the video about the girl thinner than he was and a part of him felt a sick sense of _jealousy_.

 

He knew the depression, obviously. That’s easier to label, he fell into those categories like a wind-up toy fresh off the line. Feelings of hopelessness, check. Loss of interest in activities, check. Increased signs of aggression, double check. But his favourite “Signs You or a Loved One May be Depressed” is the radical change in weight or appetite. A good excuse.

 

After all, boys don’t get eating disorders.

 

At least, that’s what the lady on the phone sneered to him. Eren thinks he’s never heard true disgust colouring somebody’s tone as bright as her’s. _Is this a joke to you?_

 

Whatever. Those stupid “hotlines” never worked anyway.

 

If they did, he wouldn’t be here, four months later - standing outside the infamous Circles of Care with a backpack slung around his shoulder and enough new prescriptions in his pocket to drug up an entire army. Awesome.

 

But he did this to himself.

 

Eren feels sixteen different kinds of anxious standing here with his ratty old backpack, stuff full of fancy pamphlets he’s supposed to pass off to “Whoever you’ll be staying with” (because once you hit 18 they stop caring), and wearing clothes that don’t fit him anymore. He frowns at the storm clouds chasing each other across the sky and hopes that Mikasa gets here before they decide to break open and let loose that heavy Florida rain that Eren’s always been bitter about.

 

Really, he’s just trying  to lock away memories of the last four months in this hellhole into a tiny box at the back of his head. Well, _hellhole_ is kind of strong word, but he’s already decided that cramming a bunch of sad, suicidal people in a building together isn’t exactly the smartest of moves on the state’s part. Seeing everyone else feeling just as empty as you are (often for much better reasons) only kind of emphasises that same guilt.

 

Eren doesn’t think he deserves to have Mikasa do anything for him again, even something like picking him up from the psych ward he’s been calling home. But of course she doesn’t share his views, getting there in the nick of time before the rain actually does begin.

 

When she sees him there are tears in her eyes and she envelops him in a hug that feels too big around him. It’s loose, with barely any real touch in it, like she’s afraid she’ll break him if she holds on too tight. Everyone’s like that with Eren. He thinks it has something to do with looking dead inside all the time.

 

She steps back for a moment to take full stock of him, eyes scanning all over as if to make sure he’s really here, entirely in one piece. He doesn’t know what he looked like the last time she saw him, but he knows it was probably horrifying on her end. “You look good,” she tells him and her voice betrays her. He’s barely eaten in this damn place (not that he ever really did outside of it), and he’s sure it shows in his face. Its bittersweet.

 

On hers is that same pain and worry she’s worn for as long as he’s known her. The guilt is back for a vengeance, but he swallows it down, reaching out with his index finger to smooth the crease between Mikasa’s eyebrows. “You’re gonna get wrinkles.”

 

Mikasa rubs at her forehead, but she breaks into a small smile that Eren’s relieved to see.

 

“Come on,” she tells him, tugging on the strap of his backpack to pull him forward. “Let’s get you home.”

 

~X~

 

“Home” is little more than a one-story house with three bedrooms and a shared bathroom that’s the bane of Eren’s existence. It sounds nice enough, and it was, enough to accommodate their family of five before . . . but now it’s just as empty as Eren feels. He thinks of Mikasa, spending the past four months in here alone, and suddenly he can’t breathe.

 

He catches himself before Mikasa can, getting it under control with those cheap breathing exercises his assigned therapist trained him through; but nothing really flies under Mikasa’s radar and she looks at him with concern. “Eren?”

 

“Fine, I’m fine,” he says quickly. “Just tired.”

 

Mikasa isn’t stupid, and has (for the most part) always been able to see straight through Eren like he’s a pane of glass, but she doesn’t seem willing to push anything, adapting that cautious, wary stance that Eren thinks he’ll have to get used to, fast. She knows he’s not fine (the grand master of understatements), but lets it go, for now.

 

“Go unpack,” she says. “I’ll make you-” she stops, choking on her own words, trying to trap

them back into her throat from where they came. Eren feels nauseous.

 

“I'm not hungry.” The words come as easily to him as taking a breath.

 

“Eren-”

 

“Really, Mikasa, please,” he closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, out through his

mouth, like they taught him to. “Please, not right now.”

 

Something about her expression let’s him know that she’s not dropping it, not at all, but she nods in assent anyway. He further avoids her by making the trip down the long hallway to his room at the back of the house. He has to stand in front of it for a minute, taking deep breaths. It’s an awful lot like returning to the scene of the crime, and the anxiety always bubbling under the surface of his skin surges forward, tightening his chest. _Pull yourself together, Jaeger._

 

When he finally musters the strength to go inside, he finds it relatively untouched; his bed is made and his closet door is open, revealing the floor length mirror attached to the door that Eren smashed ages ago.  All of his clothes are hung up in the closet, mostly just band shirts and blue-wash jeans that probably don’t fit him anymore; though, he is a little glad to see more than the same two sets of clothes they actually allowed in COC. He never thought he’d miss zippers so much. On the desk to the left of the door is a stack of messy notes on notebook paper that he doesn’t recognise.

 

There are various posters for bands Eren hasn’t heard in months tacked up all over the walls, along with pictures of what little family and friends he actually had. They’re painful to look at, and so instead, Eren crosses the room and sits on his bed. The beds in COC had thin mattresses and pillows and sheets, so if there’s anything he missed about this house, that feels empty more often than not, it was his own.

 

Eren’s busy trying not to think about the last time he was in this room when Mikasa knocks on the door once before opening it. She hesitates in the doorframe, arm jerking back automatically like she’s going to shut the door and retreat. It hadn’t occurred to him that it’d be like returning to the scene of the crime for her, too.

 

She composes her features before Eren can read anything on her face, turning her eyes

downwards at the  backpack Eren left on the ground by his desk. “You didn’t unpack.”

 

“I don’t have much in there,” Eren says, and scoots over on his bed as Mikasa crosses the room to sit next to him. She holds the papers and pamphlets tightly in her hand and stares at them with a sigh. “Let me see,” he says, taking the top one. “‘After a Suicide Attempt: What Now?’ Informative.” He flips open the pamphlet to read down the same list he’s already memorised.

 

Mikasa’s quiet for a moment, and then she says, “I’m not going to let this happen to you again.”

 

Eren thinks he might cry.

 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for doing what he did to Mikasa. They should discuss it - it’s in all of the books and pamphlets and out of the mouths of countless counselors and advocates - but they won’t. At least, not yet, because neither of them are ready to revisit that. Yes, working it all out is important, and all the other bullshit they tell you, but he doesn’t think he could handle seeing the same pain he feels on Mikasa’s face. _Go slow_ \- the pamphlets say that, too.

 

“I’m sorry,” Eren says; it’s not the first time he’s said it, and it won’t be the last.

 

~X~

 

Mikasa isn’t 100% sold on the idea that Eren should even be leaving the house the day after getting home, but they finally agree on the fact that being away from Armin for longer than necessary is not something Eren wants to do.

 

Besides Mikasa, Armin is the only other person on the planet that Eren probably truly loves. They’ve been joined at the hip since, well, preschool, and as long as Eren remembers feeling empty, he also remembers Armin being there and trying _so hard_ to keep Eren smiling. He succeeds a lot - honestly, he and Mikasa were the only ones that kept Eren alive as long as they did. They were the last things he remembers thinking about before waking up in the hospital.

 

As guilty as he feels for hurting Mikasa the way he did, it’s just as bad, if not worse, with Armin.

 

Not seeing Armin had been just as hard as not seeing Mikasa, especially because it’s more difficult to get through Armin’s social worker and foster parents in the first place to even be _allowed_ to. He wasn’t even allowed to see Armin in the hospital, before being put into the inpatient program at COC, and the memory has him digging his nails into his palm.

 

Hearing Armin’s voice this morning made Eren smile bigger than he has in months.

 

The phone call itself mostly consisted of a lot of crying and “I’m sorry’s” from both ends, and was overall just incredibly messy, but in the end Armin assured that he could get a ride from his foster sister to some diner that Mikasa’s apparently familiar with, and Eren could finally feel some relief in knowing that both Armin and her are okay.

 

Mikasa’s truck has an engine that roars, and it earns her enough double glances from sweaty, gross men, but she never seems to mind all that much. She loves that truck, even if it sounds like it’s dying, what with its a blown out speakers. That doesn’t stop her from turning on one of her alternative bands, keeping it down low; the already staticy sound of a guitar riff is further drowned out by the drone of the AC that only ever works half the time. It’s blowing cooler air than Eren ever remembers it doing.

 

“Did you get that fixed?” he asks. The question makes him think of all the things he might of missed. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

“Yeah,” Mikasa says, adjusting the vents almost idly. “I have a mechanic friend. You probably remember him from school - Jean?”

 

Eren blinks at the name, trying to dredge up a name to match it to. “Oh yeah,” he says, even though the image is still fuzzy. “I think I kicked his ass once.”

 

Mikasa rolls her eyes but there’s a smile on her face. “If I remember correctly, he kicked yours.”

 

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Eren says with mock-hurt, putting a hand on his chest. He moves to prop his feet up on the dashboard, and Mikasa glances over at him with a frown.

 

“Put your feet down.”

 

“Mikasa,” Eren whines. “I just got out of a mental ward, you have to be nice to me.”

 

“Behavioral health facility,” Mikasa says, and there’s a certain defensiveness in her tone, like she’s made the argument before. Eren wonders if she has and decides that he doesn’t want to know. “This isn’t funny,” she says softer, but looks back out the windshield. Eren stares at her profile for a second. He feels as if he should make an apology, but doesn’t know how to word it - he’s already apologised again and again for putting her through any of this in the first place. He probably won’t stop for a long time.

 

“Anyway,” he says into the silence; Mikasa is visibly relieved. “Since when did you start hanging out with Jean?” That bitter taste in his mouth sits heavier on his tongue. Circles had rules about siblings visiting - only parents were allowed and it’s not like Eren has any of those, which just made being away from Mikasa that much harder. Four months of barely seeing her was rough; he can tell it was hard on her, too. There’s a weariness in her shoulders that weighs her down more than before.

 

Mikasa shrugs. “We hung out a party last month, and just kept talking.”

 

“Wait, back up,” Eren says, taking his feet off the dashboard and sitting up. “Since when do you go to party’s? Fuck,” he drags a hand over his face. “Remind me not to get myself locked into a psych ward again.”

 

“Behavioral health facility,” Mikasa says again, but there’s less heat in her tone than before.

 

“It’s literally the same thing.”

 

“Regardless,” Mikasa sighs. “Don’t let Armin hear you talk like that.”

  
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” And he is. He thinks maybe making sick jokes out of the whole ordeal is some kind of gross coping mechanism.

 

Eren doesn’t recognize the dinner/restaurant that Mikasa pulls into. Something about the location is familiar, and it occurs to him that it’s entirely possible it was an old business bought out and re-worked. The days before COC are fuzzy as it is. Depression-induced isolationism does that to you.

 

It’s relatively empty, a sort of dreary air the interior that most likely has something to do with the overcast of the sky (how fitting). Eren spots Armin right away, sitting in a booth far down the line with his blond hair done up in a ponytail and biting at his nail.

 

Eren’s there in a heartbeat, saying his name; Armin stands quickly, nearly tripping over himself. Armin looks at Eren the same way Mikasa did - with shiny, wide eyes, almost in awe, as if he’s not sure Eren’s 100% real. He doesn’t examine Eren the same way though - in fact the wastes no time in pulling him into the tightest hug he’s ever received.

 

“Can’t breathe, buddy,” Eren’s voice wobbles, his vision blurring. Either the room’s been flooded suddenly or he’s crying again.

 

Armin barely loosens his grip, giving a watery laugh before pulling away to look at Eren again, keeping his hands on his shoulders. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

 

It’s another fifteen minutes of hugs and crying before any of them calm down enough to actually sit down in the booth, Eren crammed against the wall next to Mikasa, Armin reaching across the table to keep a hand on his forearm. “Listen,” Eren starts, staring down at the table top. “I know that all the pamphlets and shit say you gotta talk about it but I’m not-” he swallows. “I don’t want to, just yet. But know that I’m okay, now. I’m okay, I’m not -” he chokes on his words, but forces himself to finish. “I’m not gonna leave you guys again. I promise.”

 

“Eren,” Armin says softly, Mikasa putting her arms around him again.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

His favourite lie.

 

~X~

 

Eren manages to make Armin smile at least three times, and Mikasa once, and gets away with avoiding the waiter that keeps coming around to ask if he wants anything, so he considers it a success.

 

In fact, he gets a whole week to get himself resituated, making sure to speak to Armin every day and reassure Mikasa that he’s okay (although she’s locked away every medication and anything remotely sharp - Eren doesn’t consider himself “at risk”, to use his psychiatrists favourite vernacular, anymore, but still. She’s been doing her homework).

 

Reintegrating into society and all that other fun stuff is what his therapist advised him on the day before he left, and after a week of sitting around the house doing nothing (which is dangerous for people like Eren because without distractions, bad thoughts run wild) Mikasa and him finally agreed that meeting up with a few of her friends is probably the best way to go about it, seeing as how school won’t return for him for another month or so.

 

Armin’s granted permission to leave the house again and so the three of them head over to that same family-owned diner. “It’s Jean’s friend’s family,” Mikasa explains in a roundabout way. “Marco. He’s a really nice guy.”

 

“Armin, you’ve hung out with Jean and everyone right?” Eren asks, still trying to grasp the idea of getting integrated into a new friend group that the (small) one he has is already familiar with.

 

“Um, not exactly,” Armin scratches the back of his head. “I mostly just see Krista and Ymir. You know, what with all the summer work I’ve been doing.”

 

Eren looks back and forth between Armin and Mikasa for a moment. He hasn’t really gotten any information or how they coped together with him gone, but he’s horrified at the idea that they didn’t spend _any_ time together at all. He’s scared to ask. The three of them fall silent together.

 

Inside, Mikasa leads them to a doublewide table in the very back corner, where some guy with an undercut and an obnoxious voice calls her name. “It’s been too long,” he says, standing up to gesture to the empty chairs across from them.

 

“It’s been a week, Jean,” Mikasa sighs, but takes the seat closest to him (hopefully so Eren and Armin don’t have to. She’s courteous like that.)

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jean sits back down, linking his hands together behind his head and tilting his chair back. He studies Eren carefully which just makes his skin feel as if there are bugs crawling all over it. “You’re Eren, right? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

 

“You did once,” Eren recalls. “7th grade.”

 

Jean squints incredulously at Eren, then breaks into a laugh suddenly, making Eren jerk. “Oh yeah, you’re the one that got on my shit for whistling at Mikasa here. Middle school was wild.” He turns to Armin without giving Eren time to respond. “And you’re . . .?”

 

“Armin,” Armin answers, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and staring at the table. As anxious as Eren always was ( _is_ ), Armin is, too. Eren pats his forearm comfortingly.

 

“Cool name,” Jean gives Armin a wide grin; Armin flushes and all Eren can think is oh, no.

 

“This is Connie, and Sasha,” Jean points to a boy with a buzzcut and a girl with pancakes shoved in her mouth, each of them staring intently at the menu laid out in front of him without paying them any mind. “Marco’s working in the back. So, Eren, Mikasa says you’ve been out of town for a while?” He looks at Eren intently. “Where, exactly?”

 

Eren raises an eyebrow at Mikasa, who coughs suddenly, picking up a menu. “So does Marco still give out free donuts or did his parents bust him for that yet?”

 

“Oh, he got busted ages ago,” Jean says, jumping on the subject change with no problem. “But I bet I could still convince him to give us some. Hey, Armin,” he stands up. “Come with me.”

 

“W-what?” Armin looks up suddenly, blue eyes wide.

 

“Come on,” Jean waves a hand, stepping around the table to head for the kitchen.

 

Armin looks at Eren and then Mikasa with pleading eyes but stands anyway, following Jean warily. Eren stares after them, too far away to hear their conversation. He turns to Mikasa with his mouth opened, ready to ask questions, but Mikasa beats him to the punch. “He likes Armin.”

 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Eren throws a glance over his shoulder. “I was gonna ask if anybody knew.”

 

He doesn’t need to clarify. Mikasa stares down at her hands, resting on the table top. “It was nobody’s business. All I’ve mentioned is that you were out of town. You can decide for yourself who you want to tell.”

 

Eren snorts. He doesn’t even want to talk about it with her or Armin, let alone complete strangers. “Help me come up with a cover story.” He keeps his voice low even though he’s almost 100% sure Connie and Sasha aren’t listening at all.

 

Mikasa looks at Eren, seemingly surprised that he’s not angry or upset. “A cover story?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Eren shrugs. “What about California. Don’t we have an uncle out there or something?”

 

Mikasa is still wary but nods. “I think so.”

 

Eren doesn’t have any time to expand on it before there’s the sudden, familiar rambunctious laughter of days of high school past. He looks over his shoulder to see a trio of kids not much older than him, wearing dark clothing, too much eyeliner, and just generally looking like the 90’s definition of _punk_ , with a dash of mid-2000’s _emo_. They’re the kind of kids he’d get into fights with.

 

“Fuuuuck,” Jean says, walking back up to the table with a donut in each of his hands, but he’s looking at the group that’s taking seats at a table a few down from theirs. “I hate those assholes.”

 

Armin’s standing next to him with a donut in his own hand, staring confusedly at it and then back at Jean. “Why?”

 

Jean looks at Armin sharply, but before he can get a word in edgewise, one of the guy’s from the table is standing up to walk over. Eren sits on the edge of his own seat, one hand gripping the edge of his table as he fights down his anxiety; now is the worst time for any of that mess. The kid that throws his arm around Jean’s shoulder looks an awful lot like him.

 

“Hey, cuz,” he says, with a small smile. “Having fun with your friends?”

 

“Fuck off, Farlan,” Jean pushes him away, nearly knocking him into Armin which makes Eren stand to his feet in an automatic response.

 

“Eren,” Mikasa warns, but he’s already reaching over to pull Armin away gently by his forearm.

 

“Watch out,” he says to the kid - Farlan - who just raises an eyebrow at him, and then looks at Jean so he knows he’s getting the same warning. Jean stares at him like he’s offended.

 

“Oi, Farlan,” says one of Farlan’s friends (Eren’s assuming they are, anyway); the short guy with the leather jacket. “Leave the brats alone.”

 

“Aw, Levi,” says the girl with hair dyed bright pink. “Farlan’s just doing a little family bonding.”

 

“He’s making a scene,” Levi waves a hand.

 

Farlan steps to the side to put an arm around Jean’s shoulders again; this time, Jean wastes no time in shoving him away. “Dude, I said fuck off.” Eren can’t imagine what Jean’s so heated about it, he just knows that he wants to get Mikasa and Armin and get the hell out of dodge before fists start flying.

 

Levi’s on his feet much in the same manner that Eren was when he had to pull Armin away; he steps further back now, anxiety coiling tighter in his chest. “Keep your hands to yourself,” Levi tells Jean.

 

Jean doesn’t look too pleased about being talked to like that and Eren’s anxiety was warranted in the end, because Jean’s fist is flying out before anyone can even blink. Levi dodges it like it’s something he does in his free time and in one swift move has one hand coiled in the collar of Jean’s shirt, yanking him down to eye level. “Whoa there,” he says, sarcasm edging on his tone. “Calm down, big guy. Deep breaths.”

 

“Hey!” calls a woman from down the line of tables, a hand on her hip. She’s wearing an apron covered in polka dots with a name tag pinned to her chest. It’d be funny if not for the scowl on her face. “No fighting in my restaurant!”

 

“We’re on our way out, ma’am,” calls Farlan with a grin that looks as fake as the plastic-surgery ones the _Housewives of Orange County_ wear.

 

She _hmphs_ and walks away, but keeps a careful eye on the situation as Levi releases his grip on Jean’s collar. He looks to Eren, who is standing the closest to him. “Keep a leash on your friend here.”  
  


“He’s not my friend,” Eren answers automatically; Jean gives him a dark look.

 

Levi studies Eren for a moment of tense silence, then flashes his teeth at him in something that doesn’t quite qualify as a smile. “Good.”

 

Jean opens his mouth to say something, but Armin’s the one that says, “It’s okay, Jean.” It could be Eren’s suspicious imagination, but he thinks Jean goes a little bitter softer when Armin says it. Armin was always good at calming people down. Some kind of natural gift, Eren thinks.

 

“Yeah, whatever,” he huffs as it is.

 

“I don’t wanna leave,” the girl with the pink hair pouts, looking at Farlan. “I’m hungry.”

 

“We’ll go,” Mikasa says on everyone’s behalf, getting to her feet for the first time. “We’ll tell Marco sorry, right, Jean.”

 

Jean looks ready to argue but deflates in a second. “Yeah, okay.”

 

Eren’s glad to be on his way out. Connie and Sasha, who have both been wearing matching expressions of wide-eyed disbelief at the entire exchange, wave them off.

 

“We’ll stay,” Sasha says, reaching over to pick a donut up off the table where Jean put it down, shoving it into her mouth almost whole.

 

“Yeah,” Connie agrees. “We have a pancake record to beat.”  
  


Eren gives them an incredulous look but they’re already turning back to the menu, Sasha struggling to chew her donut and Connie pointing to something with enthusiasm. Jean rolls his eyes at him but waves at Eren, Mikasa and Armin to come along.

 

“Have fun, cuz,” Farlan says to Jean, who ignores him completely.

 

The whole ordeal has Eren’s teeth still sitting on edge - Mikasa keeps a hand at his elbow in a silent statement of encouragement; Armin does as well with soft smiles and glances - but as they’re heading out the door, he spares on last look over his shoulder and sees Levi.

 

It might have been the last bits of his anxiety clinging on, or it could have just be the trick of the light, but Eren could’ve sworn that Levi _winked_.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're that kid from yesterday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eren “Drama Queen with a Guilt Complex” Jaeger
> 
> if isayama can make eren a drama queen in chap 66 then damn it so can i. thanks @ eren for giving me an excuse to advance the plot. maybe one day he’ll open up about his feelings.  
> Thank you for all the comments, esp to the people who are giving this AU a second chance !! Thank you it means so much to me xoxo, I’m still a nervous wreck over this fic but as long as you guys like it that’s all that matters. I mean the first one was awful and ya'll were all over that so i really shouldn't be nervous BUT I AM. Anyway I hope it lives up to your expectations, really, thank you~*
> 
> Playlist for this chapter includes [Cave by Muse](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhiLrz9mREE) and [Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground. ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBPyYeCf95o)10/10 listen to while reading.
> 
> No specific trigger warnings that I haven’t already given!! If there’s anything you think I should add lemme know !! Again I read over too many times but if there's any grammar errors or funky sentences lemme know~

Mikasa takes the liberty of inviting Jean back to the house with them and Armin, which Eren’s isn’t too keen on, but he’s not about to argue. Jean’s still shaken up from the not-quite fight, wearing an expression that flits from that fake kind of angry to attentiveness as he listens to Armin. Eren thinks the dick should thank his lucky stars that he wasn’t actually punched in the face.

 

Mikasa nudges Eren’s shoulder with hers. “I told you he liked him.”

 

Eren side-eyes her. “Do we trust him?”

 

Mikasa shrugs. “He gets into fights, and his temper’s no better than yours. But he wouldn’t hurt Armin.”

 

Eren hums to himself, opting for a subject change. “So, who were those punks? Jean’s cousin or something?”

 

“Oh, yeah, Farlan,” Mikasa nods. “He’s usually a pretty a calm person, but he likes to get on Jean’s nerves. I’m pretty sure they grew up together or something. Isabel’s his girlfriend, the girl with the pink hair. And the other guy was Levi.” She sets her jaw. “They don’t really do anything besides vandalize and smoke and piss Jean off. But they’re good at beating up people who get on their bad side. I think there was this one guy who stole from Levi and he came to school three days later with a broken hand and black eye. Jean’s an idiot - I wouldn’t mess with them.”

 

Eren doesn’t particular feel intimidated by someone a head shorter than he is, but if Mikasa’s set on leaving them alone then he thinks he ought to as well. Not that he had any surefire plans of getting in anybody’s way, persay, but for future reference. Eren may have a temper from hell and a track record just as bleak but he knows when he’s out of his depth.

 

He watches Jean and Armin continue to walk ahead of them, knee-deep in conversation.  Armin demonstrates something with his hands, Jean nodding intently like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard.

 

Back at the house, Jean raids the kitchen, tearing boxes out of the pantry and opening the fridge with a bunch of Cheez-Its wedged in his mouth. The sight makes Eren feel sick, and Armin looks at him like he’s scared, so he retreats to his room as Mikasa wrestles a carton of eggs from Jean's grasp.

 

The whole "social interaction after months of none" takes its toll on a person, even someone like Eren who once wore the word extrovert on his sleeve. Besides, leave it to his luck to get thrown into high-school-esque drama. Maybe the Fates are trying to make up for his lost time, or something.

 

In his room, there’s still the litter of handwritten notes scattered across his desk. He hasn’t had the heart to go through them yet, scared of what he might find; most of them are done on lined paper, his name scrawled in large letters across the space at the top.

 

Eren kicks the backpack he’s left on the floor aside to sit down, resting his arms on the desktop and staring at the scattering of notes. He sighs deeply, picking up the first one he sees. It’s written on notebook paper, tiny hearts decorating the borders like it’s some kind of love note. As he reads, the cursive, flowery handwriting becomes familiar, the words of encouragement read in a high-pitched, kind tone; Krista, Armin’s foster sister. She details her _sympathy_ and regret and the longer he reads the sicker Eren feels.

 

He flips through the other notes - there’s only about seven and all but Krista’s are from Mikasa and Armin, and that acidic _guilt_ burns in him again. These are just reminders of how much he’s hurt them.

 

Every last piece of paper gets shoved at the bottom of his garbage can, and later, when he’s laying on his back and staring at the popcorn’d ceiling of his bedroom, there’s a knock at the door. He doesn’t feel ready to face anyone, but says, “Come in,” as it is.

 

It’s Armin - a short-lived relief. “My foster parents want me home,” he says steadily, keeping a hand Eren’s doorframe. “It was good to see you, again. I’m glad you’re okay.”

 

Eren glances at Armin. “Yeah. You, too.”

 

Armin hesitates. “I’ll try to come over more often.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

When Armin leaves, the guilt catches up with Eren again, and he buries his face into a pillow and sobs.

 

~X~

 

Mikasa shakes Eren awake the next morning, hovering over him with a look of terror on her face; the sight is familiar and makes him gasp as he sits up quickly, putting a hand to his head after the dizzying headrush that follows. “What is it, what’s wrong?” he asks, still groggy.

 

“You were yelling in your sleep,” Mikasa says, standing up straight and folding her arms close to her chest, her brow still furrowed.

 

Eren rubs at his eyes; he remembers the nightmare vividly but has no desire to relay it back. “Sorry,” is all he says. “Sorry, I must’ve been dreaming.”

 

He doesn't think Mikasa is going to believe him but she drops her arms to her sides and sighs. “It’s okay. Come on, it’s almost noon.”

 

Eren has a love-hate relationship with showers: before the incident, it was the best excuse to escape to the bathroom after dinner. Now it’s just a way to force himself to look at everything he hates.  He makes the trip quick, avoiding mirrors, and the part of him that’s had control over him for the better part of the past year wishes that he had waited until after Mikasa had forced him into breakfast.

 

Mikasa stares as Eren mushes oatmeal against the insides of his bowl to make it seem like he’s eaten more than he actually has. “Eren,” she starts, hesitantly, lifting her eyes to look at his face. “Is it - are you - is it any better?”

 

_Lie_ is the automatic response Eren has. _Of course I am, those four months definitely weren’t wasted hiding it, boys don’t get eating disorders, I’m fine, I’m great._ “It’s okay.”

 

She lowers her gaze again, breathing like she’s taken a page from one of Eren’s therapist’s handbooks. In through the nose, out through the mouth, count to ten. She stares into her bowl like she can find the words there. She won’t say it though, she never has, she won’t throw those ugly words at Eren’s face like he so deserves her too. “That’s good,” Mikasa settles on. “You know, if you - if-”

 

“Mikasa, it’s okay.”

 

She smiles. It looks sad. “Okay. But I was thinking that today we go to the pharmacy and get those prescriptions filled. At least for the Paxil, if anything -”

 

“Right, with what insurance,” Eren snorts into his oatmeal.

 

Mikasa bites into her bottom lip. “Well, over the summer I got a part time job. You know,

the social security doesn’t really - anyway, I still have some to spare.”

 

“Mikasa, no way, that stuff is so expensive. And besides, it’s way worse to start taking it and not be able to keep up with it, “ he shrugs. The truth is, that particular brand of antidepressants causes weight gain -  3.6% of body weight  in most patients, and a whopping  7% in 25% of them and Eren’s willing to do anything to stay out of that 25%. But he has a thousand excuses under the rug to keep from having to tell her that.

 

“Then I’ll get another job.”

 

“No -”

 

“You cant do it, you still have to finish high school, and taking a gap year between high school and college is good anyway, so that I can -” her voice was rising, but she broke it up, attempting to keep it even. “So I can watch out for you.”

 

Ouch. There it is again. “Go to school, Mikasa.”

 

“You getting better is more important -”

 

“That’s bullshit,” he hadn’t meant to shout but the guilt is sitting sharp and painful in his throat and God, he just wants it to stop. “That’s bullshit, you running yourself ragged isn’t going to make me feel any better, so just let it go.”

 

“I understand that it can’t always work by itself, but we can’t afford long-term therapy, and you need your medication, Eren, and -”

 

“Why? Afraid I’ll try to off myself again?”

 

Mikasa looks like she’s been slapped. The shame burns hot like a supernova in his chest and throat, and he knows he’s not making any sense, but God, he just wants her to let it go, he just wants to be _done_ with the meds and the _therapy_ and the Circles of Care - he isn’t _at risk_ anymore, he’s doing fine - _see, Mikasa, I’m fine, I’m fine. Please believe I’m fine because if you believe it maybe I can believe it and it’ll stop._

 

But he can’t translate the thoughts into words, a headache blooming across his temples, and so instead he flees to the living room, yanking his jacket off the hook by the door.

 

“Where are you going?” Mikasa calls after him, exasperated.

 

“I’m taking a walk,” he answers back, tone even but cold, and slams the door behind him.

 

That Eren, always leaving destruction in his wake.

 

~X~

 

Eren runs.

 

The longer he runs, the more the frustration drifts away, like a collection of balloons floating away, their strings cut one by one.  There’s not enough energy in him to keep his pace for long, so when his chest burns like his lungs have been doused in kerosene and a match thrown into them, his heart beating so hard against his ribs he’s sure he’ll break one, he stops. He doesn’t want to, he wants to push himself, but he can’t risk passing out on the side of the road. So he sits there instead, knees drawn to his chest and the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry, he’s sick of crying, that’s all he’s ever done.

 

The truth is, he’s just fucking  _terrified_ . It keeps him up at night, the panicked wheezing over the idea that he’ll always feel like this, that the black hole inside his heart is never going to stop pulling him apart, that’ll he’ll always hear _boys don’t get eating disorders_ and is doomed to this constant obsession, this constant ache. Four months in COC only barely keeps from trying to kill himself again but that’s all it was good for.

 

When he feels like he isn’t going to completely break down (again),  and the sweat from his run has dried his hair to his forehead, he stands. He walks to the strip of shops set center in town, surrounded by suburbs and apartment buildings. It’s a shortcut to cross through the plaza and get to Armin’s foster home, just on the other side of the movie theater. They, and Mikasa, have spent countless nights sneaking in through the back to see the latest film, blessed to have never gotten caught. Armin’s is the only place he can think to go, and regrets leaving his cell phone at home. Giving Armin some kind of courtesy text to explain to his foster parents would probably have been a good idea.

 

The shops inside the plaza are mostly locally-owned businesses, with a few corporate giants mixed in. A book store, the movie theater, a couple of eateries that Eren’s never step foot into; it’s where everyone from high school used to hang out before Eren shut himself off from most people. He's sure you can still find gaggles of middle school scene kids milling around on the weekends .

 

There’s an old-style arcade set just before the walkways branch off into the wide, open entrance of the movie theatre. It comes with the ever-present _ching_ of kids collecting tokens, the automated voices of machines going _You Won!_ , and Chuck-E-Cheese style prizes. There’s somebody leaning against the wall outside of it, blocking Eren’s path. Eren's thinking he’d rather turn around and just head back home rather than step in front of somebody looking for a fight (there’s no telling these days), when he recognizes the pale, angled face of one of the guy’s from Marco’s family’s diner the day before. Levi, was it? Something like that.

 

The awning overhead the doorway of the arcade casts a shadow across Levi, emphasizing the burning tip of his cigarette as he takes a long drag of it. Eren’s already making to turn back around when Levi glances over at him, catching him in his place.

 

“Yo,” he calls. Eren tenses, but steps closer, nodding in greeting.

 

“You’re that kid from yesterday,” Levi goes on to say, flicking the ashes off his cigarette into the asphalt. “Is Jean okay? I didn’t mean to rattle him so much, but he pissed me off. He has a habit of doing that.”

 

“Uh, I guess so,” Eren answers awkwardly. He hadn’t even seen Jean leave the house the day before and honestly didn’t care all that much. “Aren’t you friends with his cousin or something?” he asks without thinking.

 

Levi snorts, glancing towards the arcade door. “Yeah. Farlan pisses me off too. Must be a genetic thing.”

 

_That was funny_ , Eren thinks, but he doesn’t laugh. He’s feeling antsy and wants to get past Levi, but he still isn’t sure he can trust Levi to let Eren cross his path without being aggressive. Levi doesn’t particularly come across as such now that he doesn’t have somebody’s shirt collar gripped in his fist, but Eren remains wary nonetheless.

 

Levi studies Eren carefully in the silence, as he continues to tense up; he almost flinches when Levi gestures a hand towards him. “Aren’t you hot in that?”

 

Eren tugs self-consciously at the jacket he’s wearing. True, wearing a jacket in the sticky, hot July that Florida brings is practically unheard of, especially by natives. The run didn’t help much either, and he’s grateful he got some water in him. “I get cold easily,” he says, deciding it’s the easiest explanation. It’s not technically a lie. He’s had people ask him if he’s hiding scars and everything in-between and really isn’t in the mood to hear that from Levi.

 

Levi nods like he understands, and as Eren goes to ask him the same thing (after all, Levi’s still donning an all-black ensemble like a girl in her goth phase), the door to the arcade opens.

 

Two people come stumbling out - Eren recognises Farlan right away and steps back further. The girl with the brightly-dyed hair, drawn into pigtails, is laughing loudly at a joke Eren missed. “Sorry,” she apologises when she notices Eren stepping away from them. “Oh hey, you were there yesterday.”

 

“Don’t worry, Isabel, he’s cool,” Levi says, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it with the heel of his shoe. It hadn’t occurred to Eren that he’d be met with the same wariness he’s been giving Levi this entire time. After all, it wasn’t _him_ that almost got into a fist fight.

 

Isabel’s expression softens when she looks back at Eren. “What’s your name?”

 

“Eren.”

 

“Ooh, I love that name,” she smiles with blinding white teeth. “Well, if bro says you’re cool then you must be.” She punches his arm in a friendly manner and he winces. “Ohh,” she coos. “You’re so scrawny, I just want to bake you a cake-”

 

“Isabel,” Farlan rolls his eyes as Eren’s skin prickles with Isabel’s words.

 

“ _Farlan_ ,” she replies, putting a stress on his name. “Come on, look at him, he’s tinier than brother -”

 

“Okay,” Levi cuts in, much to Eren’s relief. He wonders if Levi notices his discomfort. Isabel and Farlan look at him right away, like soldiers following their commanding officer. “Let’s go back inside it’s hot out here.”He doesn’t give them a chance to reply before he’s disappearing back into the arcade. When he opens the door, there’s a blast of cool air that sends a chill over Eren.

 

Eren stares after them for a moment before shaking off the encounter and continuing his trek to Armin’s house, slipping through the alleyway next to the movie theatre.

 

After crossing one of the major roads in a mad dash to the next sidewalk, he sneaks into the neighbourhood through a couple bars in the gate. The Reiss house is one of the first ones inside, and he makes the trip up the long driveway, but finds himself hesitating before knocking on the door.

 

Before the incident, when Eren still had the energy and willpower to go to Armin’s, Armin was usually outside waiting for him. Eren doesn’t know anything about the rules and regulations about the foster system; he should’ve thought this through before his temper-tantrum and making the hike over here.

 

In the end he prays to the stars that Armin doesn’t get in trouble, before knocking on the door. “I’ll get it!” Krista’s familiar timbre calls through the door, triggering Eren’s flight or flight response. He _really_ hadn’t thought this through.

 

Before he has time to act, the door is swinging open and Krista is staring at him with wide eyes, her pink-lipstick painted mouth in an “o”. “Eren!” she cries, throwing her arms around his shoulder, sending him staggering. She packs a lot of punch for somebody so small.

 

“Whoa,” he says, stressing out when his voice betrays his panic. Krista was one of the last people he wanted to see, but he knows he can't really blame her for all the shit that’s been running through his head. They weren’t exactly _close_ before COC, especially not in the days leading up to - well - but they’ve known each other for years. He thinks back to her note.

 

When she pulls away, her blue eyes are sparkling with tears. “I’m so happy to see you, you look great, you’re doing okay-” her questions come out in a flurry and Eren loses track after the third one.

 

When she pauses to take a breath, he jumps on the split-second of silence, “Hey, I’m fine, it’s good to see you too. I really need to see Armin right now, is that okay?”

 

“Yeah!” Krista waves him in, shutting the door. The Reiss family have one of the nicest houses in the neighbourhood, everything polished and pristine, and Eren’s always felt like he’s dirtying up their living room just by standing in it. “Stay here, I’ll go get him,” she says cheerily before jogging up the stairs, calling Armin’s name.

 

Eren stays in the living room, praying that Mr. or Mrs. Reiss don’t come flying around the corner to pepper him with questions. Lucky for him, Armin’s down in a flash, Krista hot on his heels. “Hi,” Armin says, hugging him much the same way Krista did. “Are you okay? Mikasa texted me-”

 

“Ah,” Eren clears his throat to cut him off. “Yeah, can I -” he looks at Krista, guilty. “Can I talk to you?”

 

Krista catches the hint and fishes her iPhone from her pocket. “Oh, Ymir’s calling me,” she says in a falsetto, scurrying away. Something about the way she moves reminds Eren of a mouse scampering away from a cat. In this case, he’s the cat.

 

Armin leads Eren up to his room, just as prim and proper as the rest of the house, but with homework scattered all over the place and astrology charts pinned to the walls. He pushes aside a sociology textbook to let Eren sit on his bed with him. Eren does, and for a long moment, they stay quiet.

 

“You really hurt her feelings, you know,” Armin starts off by saying. As gentle of a person as Armin is, he’s never been afraid to give it to Eren straight. In a way, Eren’s grateful for that.

 

“I know,” Eren scratches at his eyebrow. “I know. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t tell _me_.”

 

“I just,” Eren sighs, staring at his hands, folded in his lap. “I just, I feel really fucked up, y’know? I don’t know, I just - I don’t like reminders, I guess.”

 

“You can’t take it out on everyone else, Eren,” Armin says softly, a putting a hand over both of Eren’s. “Listen, we know you’ve been through something serious, you don’t come away from a suicide -” Eren cringes, but Armin skims right over it, “- attempt _okay_. But you’re not the only one. You have to remember that.”

 

“I’m trying,” Eren gasps, realising that’s he’s started crying again.

 

“You have to _want_ to get better if you’re ever going to, too. And Mikasa’s trying the best way she knows how. If that means getting you some anti-depressants, then,” Armin lightens his tone. “I mean, I know you have this whole _Catcher of the Rye_ thing but sometimes you have to deal what the system tells you to.”

 

Eren laughs, a gurgling sound like water beginning to boil. “Yeah, Im - yeah. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” Armin says, rubbing Eren’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

 

~X~

 

Eren waits for his tears to dry, leaving his eyes aching and burning, before slipping out,

trying to head home before the sky goes dark with the beginning of night. He takes the same path back, zipping up his jacket against the light breeze that’s started to slice through the thick Florida heat. He turns over Armin’s words in his head, mixing them into the ones he’s chosen to say to Mikasa as an apology, as he walks.

 

When he gets to the shopping plaza again, he goes to take the same walkway past the arcade, fumbling in his tracks when he sees Levi leaning against the arcade glass again, lighting another cigarette. When he looks up, he sees Eren, waving him over. Isabel and Farlan are beside him, shoving each other playfully.

 

Eren’s not as wary as before, but still takes his time going to stand by them; when he gets there, Levi takes his wrist to pass a slip of paper into his hand. Eren has to resist yanking his hand away. “Hanji’s throwing a party on Saturday,” Levi says, smoke billowing out of his mouth.“You can come if you want. You could even bring those shitty not-friends of yours.”  

 

“Oh, uh,” Eren blinks in surprise, fingers curling around the paper, the edges poking into his skin. “Thanks?” Isabel giggles and Farlan nudges her; Eren finds a blush heating his cheeks and looks away hurriedly. He’s being stupid.

 

Levi nods at him and turns to go back inside without another word, Isabel and Farlan following; Isabel stops to waggle her eyebrows at Eren suggestively before closing the arcade door tight behind her. He takes a moment to inspect the slip of paper in his hand; there’s an address written on it, written for one of the higher-class suburbs by the shopping plaza. Eren turns it over, and on the back is a nine digit phone number, the initials _L.A._ written next to them.

 

Before he can give himself the chance to overthink it, he puts the paper into his jacket pocket and heads home.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You never called me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did u think i stopped being nervous about this because i have news for you 
> 
> As per usual I am really super grateful for all your comments and support, again, ESP the people who are giving this AU a second chance because lemme tell you this shit haunted me for so long I hope it haunted you too. I’m not in the habit of replying to comments individually but if you have any aching questions or concerns, dont forget u can always hit me up @roguearmin.tumblr !!
> 
> Er I cut like a LOT of unnecessary scenes from the original but I’m still a little worried about pacing and what-not so if you feel like I’m going too slow or too fast or just wonky, let me know !! Criticism matters but like be gentle with me because I'm a huge baby  
> (before I go in I want you to know that I have 100% full intentions of writing Hanji as agender but like Eren doesn’t ~*know*~ that yet, so pardon his uneducated soul)
> 
> Playlist for this chapter includes [No 1 Party Anthem by Arctic Monkeys](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDYlWAf-ekk) and [ Country Song by Seether. ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djhj--Koudo) 10/10 listen to while reading.
> 
> Triggers for: Drug mentions, anxiety mention. Accidental misgendering because Eren’s really uneducated (don’t worry he’ll learn his lesson) but I don’t want to trigger anyone so heads up that that happens.
> 
> Again I read over this like once for mistakes so give me a shoutout if you find anything !!

Eren opens the door slowly, like he’s scared of what he’ll find on the other side. He walks just as slow to the living room, where he finds Mikasa curled up on the couch, her scarf wound tight around her neck. The moment she sees Eren she sits up straight, eyes locked on his face.

 

“I’m -” he starts, swallowing. “I’m sorry. Armin says I need to remember that I’m not the only one dealing with this shit. I mean, I already feel gu - “ he stops himself, swallowing again. “I’m sorry. I understand now, I get it. I’m sorry. I’ll take whatever.”

 

Mikasa stares at him for a long moment and then stands, crossing the room to hug him. It’s not one of those fragile hugs he’s grown so accustomed, like she’s touching something made of glass, but a real one, her fingers curled into the back of his t-shirt. “It’s okay,” she says to him. “It’s okay.” Eren can't decide if the constant reassurance is good for him.

 

She pulls away, hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay, it's only temporary. You won’t feel like this forever.”

 

Eren doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he doesn’t believe her.

 

~X~

 

An apology still burns in Eren’s mouth, like he hasn’t said it enough, but Mikasa moves on quickly, no doubt not wanting to dwell on things that upset Eren. Or even both of them. They’ve never really been the best at discussing their feelings in depth - it’s probably part of the reason they’re in this mess in the first place.

 

They’re comfortable in a shared silence, watching old reruns of _Friends_ and not quite looking each other in the eye. Eren doesn’t know about her, but he’s not really watching any of it, still turning all this shit over in his head. He does that to himself a lot, thinks things over and over again, tears them apart and reassembles them into grotesque things so that he’s convincing himself that it’s all his fault, everything’s his fault.

 

The thing is, it was so easy to lie about what drove him to that attempted suicide in the first place. My parents, it’s always the parents, they die, the kid gets fucked up. It’s written in every psych book under the sun, so he never had to explain his unhealthy relationship with food, he got away with it. It was so easy. _Boys don’t get eating disorders._ A walk in the park.

 

_To get better you have to_ want _to._ The thing is, he never did. He never got help because he didn’t want it.

 

It’s weird to think that Mikasa can’t really see all the things he’s thinking displayed on their TV like one of those weather warnings. _Flash Flood Warning: I’m still fucked up!_ So when Mikasa stands and asks Eren if there’s anything he wants to wash because shes going to do laundry, it seems a little surreal.

 

Eren follows Mikasa to the laundry room, perching himself on top of the dryer as Mikasa picks through the laundry hamper, separating the darks from the lights. He sits a little wobbly before regaining his balance, bracing his hands against the edge of the dryer. “Whoa.”

 

Mikasa glances up at him. “Dizzy?”

 

“Yeah.” He’s always dizzy.

 

She sighs. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast, have you?”

 

Eren hates that question. He hates the accusation in it - _Eren, have you eaten, you have to eat, Eren, you have to take care of yourself, Eren_ \- but he bites his tongue through it. “I have,” he lies.

 

Mikasa looks at him with suspicion, but doesn’t push it - sometimes, Eren thinks maybe she really can see those Weather Bulletins on him - and holds her hand out. “Okay.”

 

Eren shrugs off his jacket, understanding her gesture, and hands it over; the sudden chill raises goosebumps on his arms. “I’m fine.”

 

“You say that a lot,” Mikasa hums, turning his jacket pockets inside out to empty them. She opens her palm, a slip of paper crumpled in it. “What’s this?”

 

“Oh,” Eren flushes again, dragging his hand across his cheek as if he can rub the red right out of his skin. “That Levi guy invited me to a party.” He can’t lie and say he’s not glad for the subject change.

 

Mikasa squints at him then widens her eyes when it dawns on her.  “Wait, _Levi,_ Levi?

Farlan’s friend, Levi?”

  
“Yeah,” Eren shrugs. “You go to those things now, right? Maybe we should go. It could

be fun.” Eren actually hasn’t been to a party since probably 9th grade and really doesn’t have any real desire to go to something like that, but now that all his pissbaby bitterness is out of the way he’s remembering that staying home as often as he is still isn't the brightest of ideas.

 

“When is it?” Mikasa asks, still wearing a mask of incredulousness.

 

“Saturday. It’d probably be rude not to go. Since, y’know, he invited me and all,” he rubs the back of his neck.

 

Mikasa blinks at him. “Why, though - I mean no offense, you know that, but Levi’s not exactly the kind to hand out invitations to just anyone.”

 

“Well, it can’t be that hard,” Eren shrugs again. “I barely know him and he was like, ‘hey you can even bring your - er, friends.’” He opts against telling Mikasa Levi’s exact words.

 

She shakes her head. “He must be really interested in you.”

 

Eren tries not to take that to heart.

 

~X~

 

Mikasa’s sharp eye on him somehow becomes even sharper, keeping an ever present watch on him, dragging him with her out of the house everywhere she goes. He thinks, rather darkly, that that didn’t really stop him the first time. But those are dangerous thoughts.

 

He’s forgotten all about that party thing until the day of, when Mikasa and Eren meet up with Jean and company at the local shopping plaza, and she mentions it.

 

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Jean puts his hands up in the air, giving Eren a hard glare. “ _Levi_ invited you? Like he straight up said, ‘hey you’re invited to this party’? And you can bring people? No fucking around, this is a big deal.”

 

Eren raises an eyebrow at Jean’s dramaticness. “Uh, yeah. Chill, it’s just a party. He said Hanji was throwing it -”

 

“Hanji?” Sasha and Jean cry in unison.

 

“Hanji’s parties always have the best food,” Sasha sighs dreamily. “Five star gourmet stuff.”

 

“The last one we went to one of her friends fired up the grill and made literal _steaks_ ,” Connie says like it’s the greatest achievement man has accomplished. “Like really good steaks. Well done. With Heinz 57.”

 

Eren wonders how two kids who eat like an army manage to stay so thin. If he had that kind of superpower maybe he wouldn’t be this way. Ha.

 

“This could be great. We're going. We’re going, right?” Jean looks to Mikasa expectantly, who in turn looks at Eren, who just stares right back, expression carefully blank.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Mikasa answers after a beat of silence, much to Jean’s joy who whoops in what’s practically _triumph_. Connie and Sasha stare at Eren like he’s given them the best gift in the world.

 

“Yes!” Jean says, then makes a show of grinding his fist into his open palm. “I hope Farlan’s there, I’m gonna give him a piece of -”

 

“You’re not giving him a piece of _anything,”_ Mikasa puts a hand up “You’ll get us kicked out.”

 

Jean huffs like he’s been offended, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. Connie jumps on the silence to ask Eren what time Levi said to come and Eren shrugs. “He didn’t.”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jean waves a hand. “Basic party etiquette says you don’t go until nightfall.”

 

Eren blinks at him. “Have you ever actually been to one in your entire life?”

 

Jean scowls.

 

“Whatever,” Eren shrugs, turning to Mikasa. “I was thinking about walking up to Armin’s to see if he wants to come. I mean, if his foster parents will let him,” Eren shrugs.

 

“That sounds awesome,” Jean says before Mikasa can answer. “I’ll go with you.”

  
“Uh-”

  
“Come on, Jaeger,” Jean slings an arm around Eren’s shoulders. “It’ll be fun. Got to get

to know Mikasa’s little brother and all.”

  
Eren shoots Mikasa pleading look but all she does is shrug, as if to say, _just placate him_. Eren’s not really interested in showing Jean where Armin _lives_ , because _ew_ , but he knows Jean won’t stop pestering him unless he agrees.

 

So he does, if reluctantly.

 

~X~

Jean follows Eren through the shortcut behind the movie theatre, squinting at the path as if trying to memorise it. For someone who insisted on “getting to know” Eren, he’s awfully quiet. When they reach the gates of Armin’s community, he finally says, “Whoa, I didn’t know he was rich.”

 

“Well, he’s not, really,” Eren says slowly. “His foster parents just get a lot of money, for, y’know. Having foster kids.”

 

“Huh,” Jean wrinkles his nose. “Seems sketched.”

 

Eren finds that he actually agrees with Jean, which is kind of a weird feeling. “Yeah.”

 

Jean’s quiet for another moment as they walk, and then says, “So, is Armin into - like you know. Dudes.”

 

Eren nearly trips over his own feet. “What?”

 

Jean actually blushes. Damn, Eren kind of wishes he had a camera on him right now. “Does Armin like guys?”

 

“Uh,” Eren hesitates. Armin never really had a chance to explain what _demisexual_ actually means, so Eren doesn't know much beyond that that’s what Armin identifies as. He doesn’t want to give Jean a yes or no, and not just because he’s not really too hyped about the idea of Jean asking Armin out.

 

“It’s just that,” Jean rubs the back of his head with his hand. “I thought you and him had a thing going, so I like implied it and he was like ‘Oh, no way, we’re just friends’, and so I thought, ‘Well, shit, does this mean he’s not into dude’s at all?’ Because I don’t want to ask him out and him be like ‘oh sorry, Jean, I don’t like boys’ and look like a fucking idiot. I mean, _I’m_ pan, but I don’t know if -”

 

“Jean,” Eren interrupts and Jean deflates, dropping his hand to his side. He stops walking, putting a hand on Jean’s arm to stop him too. “Listen, just ask him out.”

 

“Whoa - really?”

 

“Yeah, I mean, if you mess with him in any way, I swear to God, I’ll -”

 

“Whoa, alright,” Jean puts his hands up. “I get it. Be nice to Armin, keep my balls. It’s all good.” He pauses. “Thanks, by the way.”

 

Eren shrugs. “Whatever.”

 

“No really. You’re a cool guy, Eren. Sorry I punched you in the face in middle school.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

And it is, for the most part. Eren’s still not exactly keen on the idea of Jean sucking Armin’s face or anything gross like that but they kind of had that whole “crush at first sight” thing going. They seem cute enough, he supposes. In that vague, “Yeah I could see them dating” sort of way. Besides Jean seems really interested, which in a fucked up way makes Eren remember Mikasa saying _he must really be interested you_ about Levi inviting him to a party.

 

Jean waits behind Eren on the walkaway when they reach the Reiss house as he knocks on the doorway. He prays that Krista is the one to answer the door again. The gods aren’t listening today, and he gets Mr. Reiss instead, a short man with vaguely Hitler-style mustache. He makes Eren’s skin crawl. “Eren,” he greets, with genuine surprise. “It’s been a while.”

 

“Hi,” Eren nods. “Is - can we see Armin?”

 

Mr. Reiss hesitates, but nods, waving him and Jean inside. “Who’s this?” he eyes Jean warily.

 

Jean puts on a charming style. “I’m Jean Kirschstein,” he says, honest to God shaking Mr. Reiss’s hand. “I’m a friend of Armin’s. And Krista’s.” He tacks on the second name as an afterthought, as if realising that by saying it he’s making himself look better.

 

“Hm,” Mr. Reiss huffs, glancing at Eren, but seemingly pleased by Jean’s manners. Eren suppresses an eyeroll. “Well, the kids are upstairs. You can go say hello.”

 

Jean thanks him and leads the way up the stairs; once he’s turned away from Mr. Reiss, Eren lets that eye roll out in full force. At the top of the stairs, Jean hesitates, looking to Eren for instruction, who leads him to Armin’s room. He knocks on the door once before opening it, which in hindsight, probably wasn’t that good of an idea.

 

“Don’t come in,” Armin screeches, followed by Krista’s shrill giggle.

 

“Whoa, sorry,” Eren shuts the door again quickly.

 

“It’s okay, we didn’t see anything,” Jean reassures.

 

There’s shuffling noises and fervent whispering, which makes Eren and Jean exchange a glance, and then the door opens again, Krista poking her blonde head out. “Eren can come in. Jean, wait here.”

 

“What -” Jean starts to protest, but Krista’s already yanking Eren in and shutting the door. The force of her pull hurts his shoulder a little but he says nothing. Inside, he sees Armin standing in the center of the room, looking embarrassed and blushing so hard Eren’s sure he’s going to spontaneously combust.

 

“Don’t laugh,” he says forcefully and that’s when Eren realises he’s wearing an outfit he’d sooner expect on Krista than Armin; high waisted shorts and thigh-highs, with one of those off-the-shoulder hipster shirts you see in those aesthetic pictures on the internet. He pulls it off surprisingly well.

 

“Wow,” Eren blinks. “You look really good.”

 

“Really?” Armin says at the same time Krista squeals and says, “See, I told you!”

 

“Yeah,” Eren shrugs. He’s not really phased or anything, doesn’t really think he has a _reason_ to be. “Keep it on, we’re inviting you to a party. Krista, you too.”

 

“Ooh,” Krista perks up immediately, eyes going wide in excitement. “What kind of party?”

 

“I don’t know,” Eren answers honestly. “Somebody named Hanji is throw-”

 

“Hanji Zoe?” Krista blinks. “How’d you get an invitation to one of their parties?”

 

“Levi -”  
  


“Levi?!” Krista repeats. Armins looks just as confused as Eren at this, but before either of them can ask, Jean’s knocking on the door. “What’s going on in there?”

 

Armin looks panicked again and reaches for his own clothes, laid out on his bed. “Just a minute.”

 

“But Armin, you can’t go to a party in a cardigan,” Krista pouts.  
  


“I can’t walk past your parents in high-waisted shorts, either,” Armin points out.

 

After Armin changes back into his own clothes and reassures Krista that he’ll reconsider changing _after_ they leave (“If they’ll even let us go”) they let Jean in the room, looking irritated. When he sees Armin, he considerable relaxes, expression going as soft as it did that day in the diner. “Hey,” he smiles, looking for all the world like a lovesick puppy. Gross.

 

Krista sneaks out past him to head down the stairs, presumably to give her parents some sort of excuse so they can head out tonight. She’s way too smart to mention the word _party_ around them.

 

“Did Eren tell you?” Jean asks, without being specific.

 

Armin nods, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, but, . . . I don’t know, I don’t usually go to these things.”

 

“Me either,” Eren says to remind Jean that, yes, he is in fact still standing there. Jean gives him a look like he’s silently taking back his earlier gratitude.

 

“You’ll be fine,” Jean reassures, mostly to Armin. “You have me -” he glances at Eren again. “And Mikasa. To keep an eye on you.”

 

Krista comes bursting back into the room, a makeup kit in one hand and her phone in the other. “Good news! We’re totally going.”

  
~X~

 

After a brief confusion with the whole carpool situation, Sasha, Connie and Krista decide to ride in Krista’s car and they’d meet up with Eren and the rest later. Eren doesn’t really mind either way, he’s just glad he has Mikasa and Armin with him. (And Jean, but he can’t say he’s too happy about that.)

 

“This is pretty tame for a Hanji party,” Jean comments when they arrive. Eren and Jean have two entirely different definitions of _tame_ \- Eren doesn’t think his version consists of cars littered across the lawn and thumping, headache-inducing music that’s enough to warrant at least three noise complaints. But hey, what does he know. Except for that the guy spray-painting somebody’s car over there probably shouldn’t be doing that.

 

When Eren focuses in on the music, he hears it’s more akin to the scratchy sounds of backyard bands than anything electronic and he wrinkles his nose. Armin looks as uncomfortable as he is, shifting nervously on his feet. He’s carrying the clothes Krista insisted he take with him in a small backpack, one of those hipster-looking knapsacks with owls all over it. He looks a little like Atlas with the world on his shoulders.

 

Jean notices Armin’s expression and links their arms together like it’s something they do all the time. Their height gap makes it a little awkward, but Jean acts like it’s effortless. “Come on, we can go find something to drink.”

 

“Oh, I don’t drink,” Armin tells him.

 

Jean makes a face like he’s mentally kicking himself. “No, yeah, totally, I meant like. Water. Or something.”

 

_Poor Jean,_ Eren thinks, extending his deepest sympathies.

 

It’s so suffocating inside that Eren feels the need to step back out almost immediately. Even for an upscale house like this, with wide open rooms, all the people makes everything feel claustrophobic. He holds on for a moment to tell Mikasa it’s okay to separate, even though she looks more concerned than willing to do so, exhaling through his mouth. The air’s too thick in here, stifling and hot - he hasn’t felt this closed in since his first week in the psych ward. Someone’s pressed too close to his back and anxiety rises in his chest.

 

He’s nearly back out the door when there’s suddenly a hand touching his elbow gently and somebody behind him saying, “You never called me.”

 

Eren practically skyrockets fifteen feet in the air, turning his neck so fast he thinks he hears it crack. He’s too pressed in to turn around, so whoever it is touches his elbow again and urges him forward. “Let’s go out front.”

 

Eren’s grateful for the excuse to duck out and breathes in steadily as he does - unfortunately, even at night, the Florida humidity is as thick as any jampacked house party, so it doesn’t help much. He’s already starting to feel light headed and he hasn’t even really done anything.

 

Outside, there’s a couple of kids passing a pipe back and forth; one of them catches Eren’s eye and winks. He looks away quickly, hoping that they don’t try to invite him over or anything. Another two boys are leaning close to each other under the porch awning, way on the other side, voices low and rapid as if in argument.

 

Now that he’s outside, Eren turns to see who it is that ushered him out - he’s only mildly surprised to see Levi staring up at him, an eyebrow raised. Under the bright porchlight, Levi’s eyes are closer to blue than grey. “So,” he says into the awkward silence. “Why didn’t you call me? I gave you my number.”

 

“I-” Eren hesitates, not sure of what to say. “Er. Sorry?”

 

Levi squints at him and then takes his wrist, leading him to the porch steps and motioning for him to sit down as he does himself. After a moment of hesitation, Eren does, too, unsure of what else to do. He supposes he’d rather stay out here and talk to Levi then go back in there, all pressed in tight. He can make do with the sticky Florida air making his clothes glue themselves to his skin.

 

“Fuck, I hate that music,” Levi complains at the scratchy garage-rock-sounding song still coming from inside. “I told Hanji to play some Muse, but they’re about as good as listening to me as a toddler is.” He raises the pitch of his voice dramatically. “‘Levi, it’s too space rock’.”

 

“I’ve heard of them,” Eren comments. He knows one song.

 

Levi looks a little impressed but says nothing as he takes a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his dark jacket. He pulls one out by his teeth and turns the pack towards Eren. “You smoke?”

 

“Uh, no,” Eren leans away, resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose.

 

“Good,” he nods, lighting his own with one of those $3.99 zodiac lighters you see at 7-11. Levi’s has the symbol for Capricorn across it; Eren wonders if it means anything. “Cigarettes are disgusting.”

 

“I owe Hanji twenty bucks,” Levi sighs between puffs. “I told them you weren’t gonna show.”

 

“You made a bet about whether or not I’d come?” Eren asks, a little affronted.

 

“I have a gambling problem,” Levi says casually. “So, why didn’t you call? Oh. Are you straight?”

 

To be honest Eren hadn’t even really registered that Levi had given him his phone number. “No,” he answers honestly. He already had his whole bisexuality crisis in his early high school days. “I didn’t realise you wanted me to.”

 

“I wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t want you to call.” Levi flicks the cherry off his cigarette. Eren thinks he’s too busy trying to take each day as it comes then to call somebody to flirt.

 

Levi doesn’t give Eren time to answer before he’s looking at him, a sudden look of panic on his face like he’s just realised something. “How old are you?”

 

“Uh, eighteen?”

 

“Oh,” Levi blinks, expression going back to it’s usual carefully composed indifference. “You look younger.”

 

“It’s the eyes,” Eren shrugs. He gets that a lot. The whole wide-eyed Bambi look gets old the minute you do, but at least the old ladies in the world love it.

 

Levi actually cracks something that’s reminiscent of a smile, and puts out his cigarette on the wood of the porch before standing up. “Come on, I have to prove to Hanji you actually showed up.”

 

“Gotta hand over that twenty bucks?” Eren asks.

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

Back inside, it seems impossibly _stuffier_. Much like Krista and Armin’s house, the staircase leading up the stairs is by the entrance, so the two of them only have to duck around a couple of people to make it to the steps. Halfway up, Eren glances over to see into the kitchen, where he sees Jean wringing his hands and talking to Armin in stutters, Armin staring at him in amusement over the rim of his plastic cup. Eren realises that he’s changed into his other outfit - he seems more comfortable in it, somehow.

 

Levi looks behind him to see if Eren is following. He is, if slowly - the steps are taller than he expected them to be, like in all those old-style Victorian houses, and the dizziness that never really went away is more present now.

 

“Wait, hang on,” Eren huffs when they reach the top, bending over to put his hands on his knees, keeping his head low to even out the world. His head feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton balls and he reaches out to hold on to anything, praying for the bannister.

 

He ends up accidentally gripping Levi’s arm for support, who looks at him with what could almost be called worry. “Oi, you okay?” Levi asks, tone matching his expression.

 

“I’m fine,” Eren pants, embarrassed, and releases his hold on Levi’s arm immediately. “Sorry, I just got dizzy.”

 

Levi looks at him for a moment and then pulls something from his pocket - at first, Eren thinks it’s his lighter, but when Levi offers the fluorescent yellow object to him, he realises it’s not that at all. “Need a hit?”

 

Eren stares at the rescue inhaler held in Levi’s palm. “You have an inhaler and you smoke?”

 

“Yeah,” Levi brushes off, pocketing the inhaler when he realises Eren isn’t going to take it. “I never claimed to be a genius. You sure you’re alright?”

 

Eren blinks  a couple of times to get the room to right itself. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  
“Neat,” Levi nods. He takes Eren to one of those upstairs sitting rooms that fancy

houses like this always have, where he recgonises Isabel and Farlan sitting on a loveseat, somebody in glasses waving her arms at the both of them enthusiastically. A pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair looks at Glasses fondly.

 

“I owe you twenty bucks,” Levi says, announcing their presence. He holds up Eren’s arm by his wrist. “This is that Eren kid I told you about.”

 

“Ooh!” Glasses coos; Eren wonders if this is the infamous Hanji. “You didn’t mention he was so _pretty_.” Hanji  (he’s assuming) comes forward to greet him, shaking one of his hands enthusiastically. He’s starting to think she does everything enthusiastically. “Call me Hanji. Did this old man trick you into coming?”

 

“Shut up,” Levi says, finally releasing Eren’s wrist to pull a wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Here’s your twenty bucks.”  
  


“Sorry about this,” Hanji says, waving the twenty dollar bill in her hand. “I can never resist betting Levi.” She lowers her voice. “Mostly because he _always_ loses, especially at strip poker. One time we were playing and -”

 

“Hanji, if you dont shut up, I will have absolutely no guilt about ripping your glasses off your face and cramming them down your throat.” Levi presses his fingers into his eyes and, with another of those sighs, crosses the room to sit on the loveseat next to Isabel. The other blonde girl gives him a sympathetic look. “You make my head hurt.”

 

“It’s a talent,” Hanji says with a grin then turns back to Eren, grabbing onto his wrist and steering him towards the loveseat. “Don’t mind him, he’s always being so dramatic. Come sit with us, I was just explaining to everyone why we shouldn’t trust Republicans.”

 

“Don’t listen to them,” Isabel rolls her eyes and grabs Eren’s other arm. He feels as if the two of them are going to split him in half. “They’re just bitter, come here. Argh, you’re so thin!” She turns to Farlan. “Go get him some food from downstairs.”

 

Farlan makes a face, but Eren intervenes, “I’m not hungry. Actually, I’d -”

 

“Are you sure?” Isabel looks at Eren with wide eyes; at this point, Hanji has let go and Eren’s sitting on the edge of the loveseat, crammed between Isabel and Levi, who stares somewhere off to the right in disinterest. “Not even a little bit?”

 

“I’m sure. Can I -”

 

“If you say so, little guy. But I’m not gonna stop bugging you until you even out,” she pokes Eren in the ribs - it’s more than he’s okay with and he stands up quickly, almost tripping.

 

“Listen, I’m gonna go back downstairs with my friends. If that’s okay.” Not that he really needs their permission or anything but he doesn’t want to seem _all_ that rude.

 

“You scared him off,” Levi scolds Isabel.

 

Eren’s getting increasingly annoyed and starts backing up; right into somebody else, who stops him by putting two hands on his shoulders and stepping around him. “Sorry, kid,” he says, looking down his nose at Eren like he’s hardly worth a _sorry_. He turns away to address the blonde girl, “I’ve come to whisk Petra away!”

 

Eren takes his chance to escape back towards the stairs; Levi catches up him before he makes it down the first few steps. “Oi, Eren.” Eren’s still annoyed but stops to give Levi the benefit of the doubt. “Sorry, they’re a bunch of fucking heathens. Are we good? I don’t want you thinking ill of me.”

 

It’s a strange word choice but Eren shrugs. “We’re fine. I just,” he waves a hand vaguely. “I don’t like being touched. It gives me anxiety.”

 

Levi raises an eyebrow. “Anxiety? Want a Xanax?”

 

Eren’s heard of that and he’s sure he doesn’t want any. “No. I’m good. Can I-” he points towards the stairs.

 

Levi studies Eren for a moment longer, like he’s putting together a puzzle, then nods. “Yeah.”

 

Eren turns away to head back down the stairs when Levi calls his name again.

 

“Call me, yeah?” Levi says, winks like he did in the diner that day, and disappears back up the stairs.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can I call you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made you guys wait a whole month for a filler chapter I'm so sorry. I needed to get the subplots in motion okay.
> 
> As per usual thank you for the comments and kudos!! I'm sorry for the gap in an update and I don't want you thinking that I've given up on the fic entirely (*coughs* again), I'm just busy with real life stuff. But don't fret these version of my sons haunt me as much as they always have. Don't forget, you can always hit me up at roguearmin.tumblr!!
> 
> Playlist for this chapter includes: [Elastic Heart by Sia](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-pXtCW7lQk8) and [Something Is Not Right With Me by Cold War Kids](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwVhCFi8PFQ). 10/10 listen to while reading.
> 
> TW for underage drinking!!  
> lemme know if there are any glaringly obviously errors or funky sentences~

 

Eren still feels a little bothered, annoyed, mostly just on edge, but he also feels bad for being as rude as he was, especially to Levi’s face. Levi seems like the kind of guy who takes insults with little more than a raised eyebrow, which somehow makes it all the worse. He figures he ought to call Levi to apologise. Or well, text, at least.

 

Now, however, he’d rather sooner find Mikasa, or Armin or even Jean, so he holds his breath and cuts his way through the crowd, dodging wayward elbows and stepping around people who are dancing clumsily in the main room to a bootlegged version of _Elastic Heart._

 

He finds Mikasa first, sitting on one of the couches with a tall, awkward-looking guy on one side of her, a blonde girl with a bored, vacant expression thats reminiscent of Levi on the other. He doesn’t know what they’re talking about, he can’t really hear them over the music, so he waves a hand to get Mikasa’s attention. “Hey,” he says loud enough for her to hear her, looking back and forth between the two strangers.

 

“Hi,” she says back, and it’s then he sees the glassy look in her eye, the cup in her hand. He feels a sharp pang of _suspicion_ buried deep in his sternum. “Oh, Eren, this is Annie,” she points to the blonde girl. “Annie this is my brother.”

 

Annie regards Eren like he’s a speck of dust on a tabletop.

 

“I think I saw Armin and Jean in the kitchen,” Mikasa points over her shoulder, drink sloshing in her hand.

 

“Yeah,” he says, staring at her, hoping that he can see the bitter doubt in his expression before turning away. Mikasa never drank, he’s never seen her have as much as a cheap beer.. No, he needs to stop - he’s letting his anxiety catch up with him, letting it jump on the worst possible conclusion before anyone has time to give him the facts. Still, he finds it a little hard to breathe again, and this time it has nothing to do with being dizzy.

 

Armin finds him first. “Eren? Are you okay?”

 

“Eren!” Jean calls, smiling like he’s just won the lottery. “Was that the lighting, or did we really see you go upstairs with _Levi?_ ”

 

Eren ignores Jean to answer Armin’s question, “I’m fine.” He points to the cup in Armin’s hand. “Please tell me that’s like, water, or something.”

 

“It’s actually one of those Monster energy tings,” Armin turns the cup towards Eren. He groans and pushes it away.

 

“That’s okay.Who passes out energy drinks at a party, anyway? That’s kinda lame.” Not that he’s one to talk, freaking out over his sister drinking after all.

 

“There’s always that one guy that has everything,” Jean says cheekily, clearly eager to usurp Eren’s earlier comment about how he’s never actually been to a party. Maybe he feels some masculine need to impress Armin. Charming.

 

Armin still eyes Eren warily but leans away a little, giving him some spaced. “So, who is Levi anyway?”

 

Once again, Jean intercepts with his motor mouth. “He’s friends with my cousin - you know, Farlan, from the diner? - and he’s a huge asshole,” he smirks, glancing at Eren. “So it’s no wonder you two get along.”

 

“Jean,” Armin scolds. Jean looks redolent of a kicked puppy. “Anyway, Eren, can I talk to you for a second?”

 

Jean catches the hint, which is actually rather surprising, and backs off so that Armin can pull Eren out of the kitchen and into a less-crowded part of the hallway, pressed against the wall. His blue eyes are wide in the dim-light, pupils dilated. Probably from all that caffeine. “So, were you going to tell me that Jean was going to ask me out?”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Eren shrugs. “That was gonna happen. Why, did he?”

 

Armin taps his fingers against the side of his cup. “He’s been _implying_ it. You know, trying to be slick about it.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Do you think I should?”

 

Eren furrows his brow. “What?

 

Armn huffs, “Do you think I should go out with Jean? I mean, he seems pretty okay, he’s kind of pretentious, but so are you -”

 

“Hey -”

 

“And - you know, he’s cute.” He blushes a deep pink colour. “I’ll think about it. Thanks, Eren.”

 

“Uh, you’re welcome?” Armin’s too hyped on all that caffeine, but that’s what you get for giving Monster energy to a boy that’s barely had more than half a cup of coffee in his entire life. Before he yanks Eren back into the kitchen, Eren says, “Hey, by the way you look good.”

 

Armin glances down, flushing again. “Oh, thank you.”

 

“I mean, yeah, you look really cute and everything,” Eren pauses. “But those shorts can’t be comfortable.”

  
“Actually, you’d be surprised.”

  
“Huh, really?”

 

Armin shrugs, and grins, and not for the first time Eren thinks he’s very lucky to have

him.

~X~

 

Jean seems intent on talking to Armin without Eren there, and when Eren looks for Mikasa again, he sees her heading up the stairs with Annie, so he goes back to his post outside. It’s later in the night and there’s blissfully less people around. He’s surprised to see Krista sitting outside, too, seemingly updating her Snapchat story on her phone.

 

“Hey,” Eren says, sitting next to her. “Where’s Ymir?” He doesn’t remember Ymir from before the incident and can’t put a face to the name, but he knows for a fact that her and Krista are really close. Whether that whole being close thing is romantic or not, well, Eren’s not really sure.

 

Krista smiles at him. “She went to rescue Connie and Sasha from the backyard. They’re trying to find a grill.”

 

Eren thinks of their story from earlier that day. “I’m not surprised.”

 

Krista laughs, a gentle sound. Krista’s gentle in every way, but sometimes, if you catch her when she thinks nobody’s looking, she looks almost sad. Eren feels like they have a mutual understanding in that way.

 

As if reading his thoughts, Krista speaks up, “You know, Eren, I’m really glad you’re okay. Armin was a total -” she coughs. “Anyway, you seem better.”

 

 _Barely._ “Thanks.”

 

She nods. “You know, I - I get it. I get sad like that too. You know, the empty kind of sad. Sometimes I think about my mom and I . . . ” she shrugs. “But having people like Armin and Ymir, it’s really good. Especially Ymir, I mean, without her I’d be -”

 

She doesn’t say it but Eren knows. _I’d be where you are._

 

“Having Ymir is really good. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m happy you have Armin and Mikasa. And if - if somebody wants to be your friend or _talks_ to you, maybe you shouldn’t - I know I don’t really have a right to say this - but maybe you shouldn’t push them away.”

 

Krista’s always been perceptive in that subtle way, and so he blinks at her blankly, hoping she can read the disbelief in his expression without him having to say it. He doesn't really know how to say that he thinks trying to get close to somebody new, especially in a way that’s any kind of romantic, when you’re still trying to figure out how to keep yourself afloat is - well, not the best of ideas. “Ah, thank you,” he tells her anyway, for her opening up her feelings if anything. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

Krista smiles. “Just build yourself a support system, and you’ll be okay.”

 

Before Eren can say anything else, Mikasa comes stumbling out, drink gone from her hand but not gone from her demeanor. She looks a little of it, with that same glassy-eyed look, but at least she seems aware and coherent enough. “Hey!” Krista greets with her a brilliant smile.

 

Mikasa blinks and looks down at her sitting on the porch, then at Eren. “Hey. Did you meet up with -” she frowns. “What’s his face -”

 

“Levi.” Eren says. “How much have you had to drink?” Krista shoots him a look.

 

“Not much,” she says, waving him off clumsily. “I’m just a little buzzed.”

 

“Since when do you drink, anyway,” Eren intercepts with a scowl, trying to keep the accusation out of his tone but failing miserably.  
  


Mikasa gives him the look she always does when she wants to make it clear that it's something they’ll discuss later (and never do). Rationally, he knows it’s the snobby, middle-school, straight-edge part of him that has him all bothered. He’s just not used to it. “Anyway,” MIkasa goes on to say. “This party isn’t that great. Let’s go home.”

 

“You barely got here,” Krista argues with a pout.

 

Eren nearly talks over her, “You’re not driving.”

 

“Eren, it’s fine -”

 

“You’re not driving,” he repeats, firmer this time. He’ll be damned if he’s letting Mikasa get behind the wheel like this, only a ‘little buzzed’ or not.

 

As if on cue, Jean and Armin come outside, Jean tugging the latter along by his hand and in the middle of a sentence. He cuts off when he notices Eren’s glare. “Whoa.”

 

Mikasa sighs, “Tell Eren I’m okay to drive.”

 

“Uh,” Jean pauses. “What, have you been drinking?”

 

“Only a little.”

 

“A little is still _drinking_ , Mikasa,” Eren snaps.

 

“Oh _kay_ ,” Jean laughs nervously when he notices the tension. “I’ll drive us home then.”

 

“How will you get home, then?” Armin asks, side-eyeing Eren carefully.

 

Jean shrugs. “I’m sure Eren and Mikasa will let me crash at their place, right guys?” He looks at Eren as he says this, which just makes Eren’s scowl deepen.

 

“Let’s just go,” Mikasa mutters, nearly knocking into Eren as she heads down the porch steps slowly, one hand gripping the bannister.

 

When she’s out of earshot, Eren turns to Armin and hisses, “What the fuck?”

 

Jean swoops in, reading everything in Eren’s demeanor. “Listen, Eren, wipe that Hulk look off your face. We’re all legal adults here, right? People drink to have fun, don’t make it something it’s not. She’s fine, she’s not not gonna drive. Relax.”

  
Eren thinks Jean has absolutely no right to say anything to him and feels an urge to lash

out that he hasn’t felt in a long time; it scares him, so he steps back quickly, attempting to still the shaking in his hands. “Whatever.”

 

Jean clasps a hand on his shoulder and jostles him a little. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you guys home alright. Armin, too.”

 

Eren looks to Armin, who gives him a solemn nod and he exhales slowly.

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

~X~

 

Jean takes Armin home first, and before the climbs out of the truck, he puts a hand on Eren’s arm and leans close to say into his ear, “Don’t worry about it, Eren. It’s not like your dad.” Before jumping out and heading up the driveway.

 

Jean watches him go, then glances at Eren. “You cool?”

 

Eren looks at Mikasa, head resting against the window in the backseat. For someone just a _little buzzed_ she passes out rather quickly. He’s not cool - he’s most just _confused_ , but if Armin swears to him that it’s okay, then he has to try and believe that. “Yeah.”  
  


“I’m guessing you’re not used to this,” Jean says when they pull out of the driveway. “We didn’t hang out until after you were out of town so . . .” he trails off. “Cut her some slack.”

 

Eren’s about to tell Jean very kindly to stop shoving his nose in other people’s business but something about the look on Jean’s face made him stop. He remembers that there’s a four month gap in which he barely knows what happened to Mikasa. Something about the way Jean talks about her has Eren starting to think that they’re a lot better friends than he initially thought.

 

“Just tell me this isn’t an regular thing.”

 

Jean looks little troubled but nods, “Swear on my date with Armin.”

 

Eren doesn’t believe him, but then again, there’s a lot of things he doesn’t believe these days.

 

~X~

 

Eren wakes up  the next morning with a thrumming headache at the base of his skull, desperate for some Tylenol. Mikasa still has them hidden so he lays in bed for another 20 minutes or so, contemplating whether or not he should go wake her up or try to find some himself.

 

He ends up sneaking to the kitchen to see if he can scrounge through the cabinets and find anything, even generic Walgreens brand ibuprofen, but when he steps in the kitchen he sees Mikasa standing in front of the fridge, taking a drink from one of those small, travel sized vodka bottles they give people on airplanes.

 

“What are you doing?” he asks; she looks at him quickly and nearly drops the glass out of her hand.

 

“It staves off the headache,” Mikasa says automatically, screwing the lid back on and tucking the bottle back in the fridge. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“You know all those jokes about drinking before noon,” Eren raises an eyebrow. “They kind of apply now.”

 

Mikasa looks torn in half, half ready to defend herself, half ready to see if Eren’s really going to stay as calm as he seems. “It kills the hangover. It was just one drink.” The more she talks, the faster the suspicions Eren has expand and grow, start forming into words, but he holds them back, biting his tongue. In a way, he feels that if he says something he’ll be nothing but a hypocrite.

 

“If you say so,” he says. He feels a kernel of worry start to bloom in his head and thinks that this is what Mikasa probably feels when she looks at him.

 

Mikasa opens her mouth to say more when Jean pops into the kitchen, hair sticking up all one side and stretching; his shoulder makes a gross popping noises. “That couch killed me,” he says, much too loudly for morning. Eren winces.

 

Mikasa shuts the fridge so forcefully, even Jean widens his eyes a little. “Thanks for giving us a ride home.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Jean makes a clicking sound with his tongue, sparing a glance at Eren. “Now, who’s ready for a nice greasy breakfast to kill these hangovers because I am _starving._ ”

  
~X~

 

With Mikasa gone to (finally) take Jean home, Eren lays stretched out on his bed, still trying to decide how he feels about Mikasa’s drinking. Again, he knows it’s his whole straight-edge’d pretentiousness, but there’s so much suspicion crowding it out it’s hard to keep logic. Mostly it’s just because of Dad. He’s just worried, which, considering, is very hypocritical of him.

 

But, as much as Eren doesn’t want to admit it, Jean’s right, and he needs to get over himself. As a distraction from his thoughts, Eren gets out of bed to clean up his room (not that there’s much to clean, but he’ll take anything he can get before he starts going down dark roads.)

 

He finds the crumpled piece of paper that Levi gave him the week before on the edge of his desk and thinks back to the night before with his abrupt and admittedly rude departure. He’d already made up his mind about apologising to Levi, so he figures he’d better do it now while he’s trying to keep himself from focusing on other things.

 

The pen is smeared by now, but the numbers are still fairly legible. Eren tries to rationalise himself as he punches the numbers into his phone, thinking that if he texts Levi an apology it’ll take care of at least _one_ anxiety sitting on his chest.

 

Eren rewrites the text message at least three times before he has the courage to press send, finally settling on:

 

_> >hey its eren i just wanted to say sorry for being rude last night :/_

 

It still seems kind of awkward to him, but he already feels a little better about getting over himself and saying what he wanted to say. Almost immediately, his phone buzzes in his hand in reply:

 

**< <It’s okay.**

 

Eren’s ready to call it a day, glad to have gotten that out of the way, when his phone goes off again.

 

**< <Is that really how you spell your name**

 

He didn’t really expect a conversation out of Levi, but thinks he should have, considering the whole “Hey, why didn’t you call me” thing. He finds he’s kind of grateful to have somebody to talk to.

 

_> >yeah lol_

**< <Weird.**

 

Eren surprises himself by laughing. He starts typing out “ _if I had a dollar for every Starbucks coffee that had ‘Aaron’ on it I’d be rich_ ” but rethinks it and backspaces before he has the third word out, replacing it with:

 

_> >my mom wanted it to be *unique*_

 

Eren always get a little sad when he talks about his mom, but the ache vanishes when Levi replies with:

 

**< <So did mine but my uncle convinced her Rivaille was a shit name.**

_> >what haha how do u even say that_

**< <Long story**

**< <Can I call you**

 

Eren’s chest tightens a little in that quickfire, anxious way it always does. It’s irrational (per usual) - it’s just been awhile since he’s had a friend outside of Mikasa and Armin. It’s been even longer since he’s had somebody who expressed the kind of interest in him that Levi does. He’s not uncomfortable, per say, just as wary as he always is. It has more to do with himself than Levi.

 

Oddly, he thinks to Krista’s words to him the night before, saying, however roundabout, that friends are probably a good idea. Support system and all that. Yeah, friends. He can totally do that. He doesn’t have to let Levi see every dark part of him to be friends.

 

_> >sure._

 

It’s a couple of minutes before Eren’s phone lights up with the incoming call message, and an even longer few seconds before Eren answers it, with a coughed, “Hello?”

 

“Hey,” Levi greets smoothly. “Sorry, I have one of those old fashioned Nokia’s and it makes texting a bitch.”

 

Eren laughs again, “Really, a Nokia? Like one of those invincible ones?”

 

“One time I dropped it on the train tracks and it got mauled by a train, and it still worked. I just had the case replaced. Anyway, how are you? Still feeling anxious?”

 

Eren’s always feeling anxious - it’s like, his neutral mood - but it’s better than it was earlier, which is nice. “I’m alright. You?” He tacks on at the end out of courtesy.

 

“Bored,” Levi deadpans. “I asked Hanji to go to the arcade with me but they’re doing busy being responsible with college things. Only assholes go to the arcade by themselves.” He pauses. “If somebody beat my high score in Pac-Man I’m gonna be pissed.”

 

A braver part of Eren thinks that this is his perfect chance to get out of the house . “I’ll go with you,” he says before his anxiety gets the best of him. “And, you know, say sorry in person.”

 

“Aren’t you nice,” Levi teases. “Alright, meet me there, hotshot. I’ll be the short one in all black. Can’t miss me.”

  
“Okay,” Eren answers, blinking in surprise. He didn’t fully expect Levi to actually _agree_ to it so suddenly. The click of the phone indicates the end of the call and Eren stares at the screen, wondering what he’s just gotten himself into.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “At least you have Pac-Man."  
> “That’s all I have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my dear sad son Eren's birthday today so I thought I'd update. Kinda a short chapter but like there's actual ereri stuff so. Bonus points if you catch the fnaf reference :^)
> 
> Playlist for this chapter includes [First Date by Blink-182](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AqnN-t-k_jk) and [Gravity in Terms of Space Time by Starscream](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vl3cUX0ZuzY). 10/10 listen to while reading.
> 
> No trigger warnings for this chapter besides the usual!!  
> As usuaaaallll thank you for all the comments and for putting up with my wonky pacing until something actually happens but Eren's sad there's gotta be slow build you feel me?  
> Lemme know if you eye any funky sentences or other errors~

Eren realises quickly that he better get moving so he shoots Mikasa a text about walking to the shopping center (to which she replies with _???_ and he explicitly ignores) and shrugs his usual jacket on. He finds that he likes this feeling - going to hang out with somebody, making friends. Levi doesn’t seem like all that bad, rewiring Eren’s initial impression of him. Maybe it’s because Levi’s the best kind of distraction. Which is probably a little fucked up, but it’s not like he’s going to court the guy. Friends. Maybe Krista was right.

 

Feeling safe all covered up, Eren makes the trip to the shopping center with a very different, less cold kind of _anxious_ in his chest. Levi’s already there when he arrives. “Hey,” he greets as he sees Levi in what he likes to think of as his usual spot, leaning by the door of the arcade. “Thanks for agreeing to hang out with me. I just wanted to say sorry for, y’know,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Being a dick.”

 

“Nah,” Levi waves him off. “You were being ripped apart by a couple of strangers, I don’t blame you for wanting to get out of there. Sorry for draggin’ you into that shit. Couldn’t say all that in a text.”

 

“It’s okay,” Eren reassures, feeling better now that he’s gotten his proper apology out. A text sufficed, but the extra bit of vocalising it takes even more of the edge off. “Thanks, again. I really needed to get out of the house - er, not that I’m like _using_ you or anything, you seem really cool, it’s just -”

 

“Eren, I get it.”

 

“Oh. Okay, thanks.” He offers a smile. “So, er, wanna go check on that - “ _shit what was it._ “Mega Man score?”

 

“Pac-Man,” Levi corrects before lifting his arm to show a cup full of cheap, fake-gold tokens in his hand. “Way ahead of you.”

 

Eren follows Levi inside. The interior is bigger than he anticipated, with those classic arcade machines lining the walls and colorful, newer models scattered throughout the center. The carpet is the old-style swirling pattern of blue and purple, dotted with orange and green specks. The brightness of it makes Eren’s head ache a little. The lights are dimmed inside, at least, emphasising the rainbow of lights glittering off the machines. It’s not too busy, mostly just teenagers on their summer breaks hanging around (nobody Eren recognizes, thankfully) and little kids running around unattended. Eren steps out of the way of a girl tugging a younger boy along by the wrist.

 

Far in the back there’s neon signs hanging from the ceiling, one boasting about snacks in jagged letters and another in pink, curly script that reads “Prizes.” Eren kind of hopes they have air hockey hiding behind a collection of machines somewhere. He used to love that game.

 

Levi waves him over to the solitary Pac-Man machine in the entire place. It’s as old as the flooring of this place, with faded letters and even worse sound effects as the New Game screen boots up. There’s a quick flash of high scores displayed, with _L.A._ all down the list. Well, he certainly wasn’t kidding.

 

“If I die before I get a perfect score on this stupid game, please consider my life a failure,” Levi says. Eren can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, but by the way he hunches over the controls with a look of determination on his face, Eren’s going to go with the former. It’s kind of funny, actually.

 

Eren’s watching the pink ghost chase after that poor little yellow guy across the screen when Levi says, gaze still laser focused, “So, did you just move here or something? I haven’t seen you with Jean before.”

 

Eren panics a little and scrambles to find something to say. “I spent some time in California,” he chooses, thinking back to the initial cover story he suggested with Mikasa. “With an uncle. Uh, Mikasa - that’s my sister - she and Jean started hanging out when I was gone. So when I came back, I just tagged along.”  
  


“Huh,” Levi says; Eren’s relieved to hear that he sounds convinced enough. “Sister, huh? You don’t look alike.”

 

“She’s adopted.” It’s always too long of a story to tell but Eren’s never thought of Mikasa as anything less than his sister.

 

“Makes sense,” Levi shrugs one shoulder, looking  particularly triumphant when the level-up music plays on screen. “What’s California like?”  
  


“Uh.” Eren racks his brain. He’s been all of once when they went to visit his grandparents, but that was so long ago all he has are hazy memories of a particularly gross apple pie and a very different kind of ocean “Hot. But like, dry heat, not this humid kind.”

 

“Sounds nice,” Levi almost sounds wistful, but maybe it’s just because Pac-Man just got butchered by the orange ghost. “I hate it here. Especially the ocean.”

 

“What’s wrong with the ocean?” It’s the only part Eren likes.

 

Levi looks at Eren with a wrinkle to his nose. “There’s a million bacteria and ten million viruses in one millimeter of ocean water.”

 

Eren chuckles; it sounds like Levi’s quoting something.  “I’m pretty sure they can’t actually hurt you.”

 

“It’s still disgusting. Almost as bad as Hanji’s room.”

 

Eren wouldn’t call a two-story house in the richer part of town _disgusting_. “It didn’t seem so bad.”

 

Levi catches on, “No, that was their parents house. They wanted to trash it because their parents are assholes.” Levi jostles the joystick on the machine halfheartedly. “Hanji and I live in this shitty, two bedroom apartment and Mr. and Mrs. Zoe are dumb enough to leave town for a few days.” Levi suddenly steps back from the machine, purposefully losing his last life (this time to the blue ghost). “Shit, I’m being rude.”

 

“Nah,” Eren says. “You’re just really into that game.”

 

“It’s very dear to my heart,” Levi says in that usual monotone that Eren can’t quite decipher. Half of the things Levi says could be jokes and Eren doesn’t think he’d realise them.  
  


“Come on,” Levi says, leaning over to catch Eren by the wrist. “I bet I could kick your ass at air hockey.”

 

~X~

 

“Alright, alright,” Levi puts his hands up after losing three rounds of air hockey in a row. “I get it, you’re air hockey King.”

 

“At least you have Pac-Man,” Eren snickers.

 

“That’s all I have,” Levi replies solemnly. “Come on, I’ll buy the victor some lunch.”

 

Eren stumbles after Levi who heads for the dinky snack corner that doesn’t look like a particularly pleasing place to _eat_. There’s a girl tapping away on her phone behind the counter, wearing a purple striped uniform that looks somewhat a of a cross between the ones from _Hot Dog on Stick_ and _Taco Bell._ “I’m not really hungry,” Eren tells Levi as the latter walks up to the counter.

 

Levi stops to raise an eyebrow at him. “You don’t want anything?”

 

“No, no thanks,” Eren shakes his head.

  
Levi frowns. Eren’s being too careless, too obvious about it. He’s going to have to find ways to avoid these situations all together. Bitterly he thinks maybe this contributed to his initial self-isolationism. He thinks about seconding his answer, telling Levi _sure_ but Levi’s a lot like Mikasa in the sense that his sight is very keen and Eren doesn’t think he could fake eating around him so he throws away the option.

 

“You feel alright?” Levi asks, still frowning.

  
“I’m fine,” he reassures the best he can and gives Levi a smile for good measure.

 

Levi continues to stare at Eren incredulously but let’s it go with a, “If you say so,” and goes to bother the cashier about an order of fries.

 

Eren takes the nearest empty chair (which, admittedly there aren’t very many options to choose from) and waits for Levi, who returns with a small tray of greasy fries, saying, “You know, I’d offer we hit up the DDR machines, but I don’t want you to see that side of me.”  
  


“Are you any good?” Eren asks with a laugh.

  
“I don’t need to be, because one day I’m going to event some kind of Dance/Pac-Man crossover and it’ll be the best fucking thing the game industry has ever seen,” Levi proclaims. “I’m gonna get so fucking rich.”

 

“Wait, rich off the invention or off being the best at it?”

 

“Both.” He rolls up the sleeves of his jacket before tearing open up a packet of ketchup to pour all over his fries. Eren notices a tattoo inked into his right forearm - an intricately done compass with an arrow shot through it, the long point of the arrowhead stopping just at his palm. It’s nice. Eren wonders if he has any others. “So,” Levi says, exchanging his now-empty ketchup packet for a stray salt shaker on the tabletop. “What do you do when you’re not being tortured at parties and arcades?”

 

“Oh, I-” Eren coughs to stall.. “Nothing, much. Just waiting for school to come back.”

 

“Whoa, wait,” Levi stops eating, fry halfway to his mouth. “You’re still in school?”

 

“Well, I, “ Eren rubs the back of his neck. “I messed up my credits last year, so I just have to make those up. I don’t need a full year or anything, just half.”

 

“You make me feel old,” Levi complains.

 

“You can’t be _that_ old. You look -” he hesitates, squinting at Levi who watches him expectantly. “Maybe nineteen.”

 

“Nineteen. I’m flattered,” he sighs. “I’ll be twenty-two in December. Got saddled with a Christmas birthday, I get fucked over every year.”

 

“Oh,” Eren blinks. “You are kind of old.”

 

Levi looks at Eren like he’s contemplating throwing a fry at him. “I don’t accept your apology from early about being rude.”

 

He sounds as serious as ever, nothing in his tone indicating that he’s joking, not even a dash of sarcasm, but Eren’s starting to catch on to his sense of humour, and so he laughs. Levi looks appreciative. “So, nobody’s talked any shit about me then?”

 

Eren’s confused. “What do you mean?”

 

Levi shrugs. “I have a rep around here. I assumed Jean or someone would talk you up about what an asshole I am.”

 

“Oh, I mean, not really,” Eren moves his hand from the back of his neck to his head. “I mean, they did say you were an asshole.”

 

Levi snorts.

 

“But just that you didn’t do much besides piss Jean off,” Eren finishes, quoting Mikasa. Levi nods - Eren thinks that might be relief in the set of his shoulders, but he can’t tell for sure. He wonders what that was about, but doesn’t voice it, and they lapse into a shared silence.

 

When Levi finishes his food (Eren envies him a little for that, but there’s no real resentment), Levi points to one of those claw machines featuring hybrid stuffed animals, including deformed teddy bears, and something that closely resembles a mauled bunny. “Okay, you win at air hockey, but nobody can win those,” Levi challenges.

 

Eren didn’t think he’d get such a big kick out of winning some hideous, stuffed chicken-duck out of a claw machine for a guy he barely knows, but when Levi tucks it into the pocket of his leather jacket and says, “It’s very punk rock”, Eren finds that he doesn’t mind too much.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Home sweet home, and all that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise bitch  
> Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me
> 
> So AHhHH HAHA *rises from the dead after like 5 months* I have arrived back and ready to party. I am ? Very. Very sorry. For the long ass gap. I started to hate it again and then it started to HAUNT ME AGAIN and ngl to you guys? I almost restarted a third time. I even opened a new doc and everything, I was gonna do it, but I decided it'd probs be a lot better if I just tried to IMPROVE OFF what I left off on and like I want this AU to END I want to stop the cYCLE. So here I am. 
> 
> If you read this please know that I love you very much and I'm always eternally grateful for giving this fic a chance AT ALL let alone three times over, and I'm always so so sorry for leaving you guys. I've been extra mega busy this past few months gettin gmy shit together with work and school, (the 2 jobs broke college kid life :') ), but I'm gonna put a lot of effort into this from now on? I hope, too, anyway. 
> 
> I love you all and again I'm sorry and also like if you're wondering where I've been, check out [Typo](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3332084/chapters/7285649%22), co written with my girlfriend Melissa @melooshkah. It's an all-dialogue "texted the wrong number" fic and honestly it's reallly helped me refine Levi's character?
> 
> I love you all I'm so sorry please forgive me, and I hope you enjoy what I have to offer~*
> 
> Slight gender discussion in this chapter, esp with Armin, so tread cautiously because Eren is still naive babu when it comes to that sort of stuff.  
> Usual warnings.
> 
> Playlist for this chapter includes [Between Us and Them by Moving Units](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hj2BccQcZYg). 10/10 listen to while reading.

 

“Here,” Mikasa says not two minutes after Eren walks through the front door, holding her fist out in a motion for him to hold out his own palm. She has a glass of water in her other hand.  
  


“Uh,” Eren hesitates, but opens his hand. Mikasa deposits a couple of indiscernible pills into it, pushing the glass towards him. “What are these?”

  
“Your antidepressant and an iron pill.”  
  


“Iron?”

  
“You don't eat enough.” Eren winces. “You get dizzy. You’re probably anemic. Just take it, Eren.”

  
“You actually got them,” Eren says, smothering his disappointment. Everything in him doesn't want to, but they made an agreement and Eren has a sick feeling there’s going to be other things they’ll have friction about. He’ll probably figure out a way to get out of it, but for now, against his own will, he takes them. The iron pill’s harder to swallow and leaves a bitter tang on his tongue. “When you’d pick these up?”

 

“While you were out. Wherever you were.”

  
“I was just at the arcade.” He omits Levi , not because he particularly feels like he has to hide him - Levi doesn’t make him feel like that. He’s just not sure if he can trust Mikasa not to give him a scatching look and a slew of questions. Eren’s never been good with interrogations.

 

Mikasa regards him with doubt but doesn’t push it.

 

~X~

 

Despite all of Eren’s protests, Mikasa takes it upon herself to go on the great job hunt of the summer which leaves him home for the next few days with not much to do besides watch _Judge Jud_ y re-runs and try to keep his mind out of the dark places it always tends to wander to. He exchanges text conversations with Levi to pass the time. He learns that Levi works at a local fast food joint that he won’t cough up the name of, no matter how many times Eren guesses, is addicted to _Master Chef_ and _Cake Boss_ , and has very singular taste in music. As in, he only listens to one band.

 

It’s easy conversation, and they don’t make any immediate plans to hang out again but Eren finds he’s particularly grateful for the friendship. Levi keeps him distracted enough, which is nice while Mikasa looks for jobs and Armin spends his hours doing summer extra credit work and calling Jean.

 

But speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear - the text Eren gets this morning isn't from Levi, but Armin, who invites him over with a proclamation of: _my date with jean is tomorrow come over and help me find something to wear~*._

Eren makes the walk up there, and he’s never fond of having to deal with Armin’s foster parent’s ever critical eye (not that he actually sees much of Mrs. Reiss, just the Mr.) but he manages to make it up the stairs unscathed.

 

Eren raps his knuckles against Armin’s bedroom door before nudging it open, only to see Krista pulling Armin’s arm through the sleeve of a sweater dress. “See, I told you it’d fit,” she’s telling him as he rolls his eyes.

 

“Hey,” Eren says to announce his presence; Armin doesn’t seem as jumpy as he was the first time he got caught playing dress up.

 

Krista seems as ecstatic  as ever to see Eren and envelops him in a hug. With the formalities of “hey, how are you”, out of the way, Armin asks, “Krista, can you give us a second?”

 

“Oh, of course,” Krista says, practically skipping out of the room; Eren feels bad for making her leave every time he shows up. When she’s gone, Eren crosses the room to sit cross-legged on Armin’s bed and just gives him a _look_.

 

“So . . .” Armin pulls at his hair. Eren notices there’s lipstick smeared on his upper lip.

  
“That’s cute,” Eren points to Armin’s outfit. He’s not exactly built for the cut of it, but he looks a bit like one of those dreamy indie people. Armin’s definition indie, Eren’s starting to figure out. He wonders if he goes to Starbucks a lot.

 

Armin smooths down the folds of his outfit. “Thanks. Is the colour okay? Does it make me look too pale or anything?”

 

“Nah, you look good,” Eren pauses for a second. “You know, Ar, if there’s - if there’s like anything you want to tell me -”

  
“No.” He looks a little scared.

 

“Ar-”

  
“Really, Eren. I’m just -” he exhales, gesturing down at himself. “Me. I’m just me.”

 

“Okay. But, you know, I totally support you, and -”

  
“I know,” Armin laughs gently. “Thank you. I’m still figuring it out, but when I do, I’ll let you know, yeah?”

  
“Yeah, okay. So, uh,” Eren wipes his palms on his jeans. “Where is Jean taking you, anyway?”  
  


Armin looks grateful for the subject change. “Just dinner.”  
  


“He’s not very creative, is he.”

  
“Eren,” Armin scolds, but he’s smiling. “No, not really. You think he’d like something like this?” He pulls at the hem of his dress.

  
“Please,” Eren snorts. “He was practically drooling  over you in shorts, he’ll love you in that. With some like - um, what are they called. The leg things that business ladies wear.”  
  


“Tights?”  
  


“Yeah those, but like. I don’t know, black ones,” he makes a face. “I don’t know. I”m bad at this, you should’ve asked Mikasa.”

  
“But she’s busy and I wanted to see you,” Armin points out.

 

Eren flushes. He’s never felt anything romantic for Armin, and vice versa, but sometimes he can’t help but feel like there’s something about their relationship that’s more than friendship. It’s that feeling that prompts him to say, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

 

Armin looks at him from adjusting the sleeves of his sweater dress. “Of course.”  
  


“Did you - did you notice -” he bites his tongue. He’s still not sure he’s ready to

talk about it, ready to slap a label on it, or have someone else do it, but if he keeps pushing it off, he’ll never _be_ ready. He owes it to Armin - who tells him everything - to say the things he never did. Before he can find the right words and spit them out, his phone goes off his pocket, the muffled sounds of Blink-182’s _What’s My Age Again?_ ringing out.

  
“Oh, sorry, hold on -” he says to Armin, who keeps his eyes on him as he fishes the phone from his pocket. Levi’s name flashes across the screen with the pixelated image of Pac-Man Eren set as his contact photo. Shit. He forces himself not to glance at Armin, wondering if he should let it go to voicemail but ends up answering with a tight, “Hey.”

 

“Yo,” Levi greets. “This a bad time?”

  
“Er,” he glances at Armin, who keeps side-eyeing him while pretending to be very invested in a pile of cardigans. “I’m at a friend’s, but I can talk for a second. What’s up?”

  
“Okay, shut up,” Levi’s hissing to someone off the phone; judging by the muffled squeak that follows, Eren’s guessing it’s Hanji. “Sorry. Ignore Han - Hanji, I swear to God -” there’s a scuffling noise and what sounds like a door being shut before Levi gets back on. “Okay. Sorry. Ignore them. Anyway, I called because Hanji’s dragging me to this outdoor - concert thing this weekend. I’d rather _not_ hang around a bunch of fuckbuckets to listen to bad music but I have no choice. Woe is me. Anyway, I wanted to know if you’d like to come with.”

  
“Wait,” Eren laughs, thinking of the words _outdoor concert_. “Isn’t that _Warped Tour_?”

  
“Oi, shut up, it wasn’t even my idea, okay,” Levi sounds thoroughly offended. “I just figured it'd be less miserable with someone else to make fun of the scene kids.”  
  


“So, you’re gonna make fun of yourself?”  
  


“Wow, if I had known you were so much of an asshole I wouldn’t have asked you out in the first place.”

  
Eren tries to ignore that last bit and laughs. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. Wait - do you need money for tickets, or -”

  
“Nah, I got you covered. Thanks, you’re saving my life. I’ll pick you up, day of. You can text me your address and stuff.”

  
“Okay,” Eren agrees.  


“Neat,” Levi says, and then he hangs up without a goodbye, the way Eren’s starting to think he always does.  
  


Eren can’t say that he’s forgotten Armin was there - the moment his phone blinks back to the home screen, he looks up, sheepish, at his friend's’ expectant gaze. “Who was that?”

 

“Uh - erm, Levi?”

 

Armin blinks. “That guy you hung out with at the party? I still don’t know who he is. Wait, are you guys like _talking_.” He puts a suggestive emphasis on the last word.

 

“No!” Eren answers quickly. “No, we're just friends. Remember him, from the diner?”

 

Armin scrunches his nose up in thought. “The short one?”

 

Eren nods. “We hung out a couple days ago, I don’t know. We’re just friends,” he repeats when he sees the look on Armin’s face.

 

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” Armin says, putting his hands up in mock defense. “That’s good, though. That you have him as a friend, I mean.”  
  


Eren feels irrationally embarrassed, even if he agrees. “Yeah, well.”

 

Armin smiles at him. “Oh, hey, what were you going to ask me?”

 

“Nothing,” Eren answers quickly, having long lost the nerve. “Let’s find some accessory things for your outfit.”

 

~X~

 

With no luck in her hunt, Mikasa spends yet another two days out and about, coming home to scatter applications across the table and re-typing her resume three times. She’s starting to look a little worse for wear, but Eren’s reassurance that she “doesn’t have to do this” isn’t going to stop her. “It takes more than a few days to find a job,” she points out to him. She keeps a strict schedule for Eren to takes his medicine and it’s getting harder and harder to fake the whole eating thing around her.

 

Eren’s in the midst of another episode of _Judge Judy_ , trying to figure out how that girl could possibly believe she’s going to get her money back from the cheap TV store when he gets a text from Levi along the lines of: **Hey, you busy?**

_< <not really, why?_

>> **Wanna come over**

>> **I can give you a ride**

 

Something thuds heavy in his chest, and he thinks just maybe it might be his heart, but he’s not going to allow himself to dwell on it too much. There’s several moments of hesitation, spent mulling over a reply (he’s torn between “Yeah” and “sure” or even “yeah” and “Sure” but then decides maybe he’s reading too much into it), before finally giving Levi an affirmative.

 

>> **Is now good?**

 

Eren answers yes to that, too, and a part of him wonders when this became easier.

 

~X~

 

Eren thinks he’s less likely to back out (or even panic, really), if he sits outside, door locked and keys shoved somewhere deep in his pockets. It’s blazing out, and within the first two minutes, Eren feels sweat gathered in the folds of his limbs. It’s pretty gross but there’s nothing he can do about it in this moment.

 

At first, Eren’s nothing but bewildered when a black, Hummer-esque _brick_ pulls into his driveway. Surely Levi’s the type to drive something - well, sleeker. He pictured him with some classic muscle car, an old Impala, more than anything else. Maybe even one of those all-black, eco-friendly sports things.

 

After the conclusion is made that yes, that is in fact Levi behind the wheel honking at him with a raised eyebrow, Eren embarrassingly stumble-jerks to his feet, hand falling to the outside of his pocket to feel for his keys instinctively. Shaking off as much of the last-minute anxiety (that has less to do with Levi, and more to do with himself) as he can, he waves to Levi as the latter quite literally _climbs_ from the cab of his car.

 

“Hey,” he greets smoothly like he didn’t just to some nearly acrobatic maneuver just to get his feet on the ground.

 

Eren finds himself snickering at Levi standing next to one of the tires; they’re nearly as tall as him. “Compensating for something?” he asks bravely, gesturing to Levi’s Jeep.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Levi says as he immediately makes the treacherous climb back into the driver’s seat.

 

Eren’s climb into the cab is more like taking a step up the stairs, and if the scowl on Levi’s face is anything to go by, he’d even say the man was _jealous_. “Aren’t these things complete gas guzzlers?” Eren asks when Levi gets out on the road.

 

“Absolutely,” Levi concurs. “It eats my entire paycheck, but I paid a lot of money for it, and the resale value fucking sucks. So I’m stuck.”

 

“My sister’s truck is the same,” Eren says, hoping Mikasa’s job hunt is going at least marginally better today (it probably isn’t). “But she doesn’t give up on it.” She doesn’t give up on anything, including him, even when she probably should.

 

“She’s a trooper,” Levi comments; the words make Eren laugh. Levi makes him laugh a lot, he’s starting to notice.

 

“How far out do you live?” Eren asks almost twenty minutes into their drive, when the buildings start to grow sparser the foliage gets thicker.

 

Levi almost looks _sheepish_ as he taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Only a few minutes from that empty field. You know, Sina, or whatever.”

 

“The one where they’re holding your scene kid concert?”

 

“Yes - okay, it’s hardly _my_ concert,” Levi scowls at the road. “On the bright side, I have your address, so we can actually get there on time instead of me driving around trying to figure shit out. Hanji will be _thrilled_.” His voice drips with bitter sarcasm.

 

Eren whistles. “Anyway, it’s still far.”

 

“Sorry, I should’ve said it was.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Eren grins. “It’s your gas money after all.”

 

Levi rolls his eyes at him and makes a point of turning up the stereo of his Jeep. It’s been that same band the entire time, the same crooning, high-pitched vocalist and vaguely space-rock like guitars. It’s not that Eren _dislikes_ it, per say, but he’ll never understand how Levi wouldn’t get tired of it after so many times.

 

The vocalist is ranting about government rebellion when Levi finally pulls into a driveway. It’s immaculate, unlike Eren and Mikasa’s which is lined with weeds neither of them have the patience or energy to pull, the paint job on it a muted blue that could almost blend into the sky. It’s low to the ground, and looks rather small from the outside, but it’s adorable, in a way. The only thing that detracts from its calm exterior is the door painted a harsh yellow colour that’s just absolutely _vile_. Eren doesn’t know Hanji very well, but somehow he feels that was their idea.

 

“Home sweet home, and all that,” Levi crinkles his nose as he drives into the garage.

 

“I always forget people actually use these,” Eren says when Levi pulls one of those key-clickers from the center console of the cab, pressing a button to make the garage door close behind them with a concerning grating noise.

 

“I’m paranoid,” Levi shrugs a shoulder. “I lock up everything of value.”

 

Levi’s climb out of his Jeep is just as funny as it was the first time, and Eren hides his laugh as he follows suit, following Levi around the hood of it towards the door that presumably leads inside. He glances around, just to see what else Levi keeps in his here. Strangely enough, all he sees are half-broken chemistry sets and a lone telescope forgotten on a dusty workbench.

 

He also notices a motorcycle tucked into the dark corner of the garage. He doesn’t know much about model types or anything like that, but it has the low, lean feel of an 80’s bike, painted in all black with long handlebars. Pointing to it, he asks, “Is that yours?”

 

Levi stops with one foot through the doorway; it could just be the shadows in the garage, but Eren thinks his eyes darken a little. “No. It was an uncle’s. Let’s go inside.”

 

“Does it run?” Eren continues to ask out of fresh curiosity, but follows Levi through the door anyway.

 

“No,” Levi answers, voice clipped.

 

“Oh.” Eren pauses. “Isn’t Jean a mechanic? It could be cool if you had - what’s your friends name -”

 

“Farlan. I’m not interested.” Levi’s expression softens when he looks back at Eren. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be rude.”

 

“It’s okay,” Eren reassures, although the sticky feel of confusion lingers, but it’s lost in the familiar screech of  none other than Hanji, who comes flying around the kitchen corner like Eren’s a puppy that Levi just brought home.

 

“There he is!” Hanji exclaims and throws an arm around Eren’s shoulders briefly. They frown a little when they squeeze Eren’s shoulder, and he panics, knowing that they’re frowning at the sharp feel of his shoulder blades. He pulls away and hopes it doesn’t seem to harsh.

 

Hanji’s expression clears when Eren meets their eyes. “It’s so good to see you again! Levi’s been talking about you-”

 

“Okay, shut up,” Levi interrupts, rather passive aggressively.

 

“He’s shy,” Hanji waves off, which is promptly met with a little more than a tap on the back of their head from the flat of Levi’s hand. Hanji makes a show of screeching “Ow!” anyway and rubbing it, even though they send a sly smile Eren’s way to prove they’re joking.

 

“Are you hungry?” Hanji asks, eyes practically bugged-out behind the frame of their thick glasses.

 

“Please,” Levi snorts. “You used all the good food for your experiments. Eren, if you want real food, let me know, and I’ll order out.”

 

“You’re so _mean_ ,” Hanji huffs, crossing their arms. “I’ll have you know that I just went grocery shopping.” They gesture to the bags on the counter before walking over to them, pulling a variety of vegetables out of one of them.

 

“No,” Levi points to a lone potato Hanji set off to the side. “You’re not making another battery, you’ll burn the house down.”

 

“That was _one time_ , and it barely cost a thing to fix the ceiling.” Hanji picks the potato up and very nearly _cradles_ it, like she’s trying to protect it from Levi’s harshness. “I’ll have you know that I’m actually making dinner, so no takeout.”

 

Levi puts his hands in the air. “Well, excuse me.”

 

“Always, babe,” Hanji winks and then begins to shoo Levi out of the kitchen. “Go on, get out, go have fun with Eren, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

 

“Such a mom,” Levi complains, but takes Eren’s wrist in his hand as he passes him and pulls him down the hallway. Eren’s skin feels hot where Levi’s fingers are pressed against it. “Sorry about them. They’re so -”

 

“Intense?” Eren supplies.  
  


“Always. It’s exhausting.” Levi continues to pull Eren gently through a green-carpeted living room and taking a sharp left down another hallway; there’s only three doors that line it, one of which is adorned with a weathered poster of the periodic table of elements. One of the edges is peeling, the tape on it having come loose.

 

Levi drops Eren’s wrist just as he steps into the room across from it. It’s _his_ room, Eren realises, and for all their talking, there's still much to be learned from Levi, but he can’t help but feel the slightest bit privileged. He’s being invited into Levi’s personal space, and it doesn’t feel so bad, it doesn’t make him so jittery.

 

Eren didn’t know what he expected Levi’s room to look like - maybe bare, maybe akin to the the same blank slate Levi’s expression usually is - but he certainly didn’t expect to see posters lining one wall so much the wall is hardly visible beneath it. They’re mostly band posters - that one band that Eren’s starting to believe Levi is obsessed with, and that he should maybe listen to more. Oddly enough, the X-Files _I Want to Believe_ poster dominates most of the space.

 

Levi sits on the edge of the bed and watches Eren scrutinize his room, which makes Eren’s neck hot. “Who’s that?” Eren asks just for something to say, gesturing towards an equally large poster of a man, tucked next to the X-Files one. He’s holding a guitar and singing passionately about something angsty, probably.

 

“Matt Bellamy,” Levi answers, and when Eren glances at him he swears there’s stars in his eyes.

 

Eren turns to examine the rest of the rom. There’s a collection of pictures tacked into the wall above the lightswitch; mostly of Isabel and Farlan - with their arms around each other, with sparklers in their hands, with cake smeared on Isabel’s face and Farlan laughing alongside her - and one of Hanji looking shitfaced and halfway inside a pool. There’s another, of a pretty woman who looks identical to Levi if not for the smile. The picture of her is torn in half, and Eren wonders who the hand on her shoulder belongs to. The last is of a blond man in a police uniform, not smiling but staring directly at the camera with the standard photo op blue backdrop.

 

Levi isn’t in any of them.

 

“Cute pictures,” Eren comments, lifting a finger to point at anyone in particular, but landing on the police officer.

 

Levi gets to his feet immediately and reaches around Eren to take a tack out of the picture he’s pointing at, folding it in his hand and shoving it into the nearest drawer. It’s odd, and Eren furrows his brow at Levi’s action, but Levi brushes it all off with a , “Thanks,” and goes back to his seat at the edge of the bed.

 

In the awkward silence that follows, Levi clears his throat and waves a hand towards a lone chair sitting near his cleared-off desk. “Hand me that would you?”  
  


“Oh, sure,” Eren affirms, making some use of himself by crossing the room and grabbing Levi’s jacket strewn across the back of the chair. The faux leather of it is cool under his hand.

 

When he hands it over, Levi digs through it and unearths nicotine gum from his pocket. “I thought about what you said, about the having asthma and smoking thing,” Levi says as he tears open the package. “So I caved and bought this bullshit. It was expensive, so even if it’s gross, I have to chew it anyway.” He makes a face and seems to go to say something else, but catches himself last second and pushes a piece into his mouth.

 

“You could always vape,” Eren supplies when he catches the look of disgust on Levi’s face as he chews thoughtfully.

 

“In due time,” Levi sighs.

 

Eren didn’t think they’d run out of things to say, not with all the back-and-forth conversation they do via text, but in person is so much different, and Eren thinks this is why he’s always avoided hanging out in person or even _phone calls_. Levi has been as much of an exception as Armin thus far, and he’d hate to see that change. On a whim, trying to think of anything to say at all, he says, “So, uh, can I ask you something without it being - I guess, offensive.”

 

Levi looks troubled for a flash there but smooths his expression out in that slick way of his. “Go ahead.”

 

“Hanji, are they - uh -”  
  


Levi actually relaxes, surprisingly enough. “Oh, they identify as agender. They’d be way better at explaining it that I am, and they really don’t mind people calling them, well, female, but they don’t prefer it. So.” He looks slightly challengingly at Eren, and Eren thinks that Levi has a fierce protection over Hanji that he doesn’t let others see too often unless the need rises.

 

“My friend, Armin, he’s still trying to figure himself out,” Eren says, wringing his hands. “I don’t want to overstep my bounds or anything, not with anyone, but maybe Hanji could - y’know. Help him out. If that’s -a  thing. I don’t know.”

 

Eren can’t read the look on Levi’s face. The thing with Levi is that he’s always so inexpressive that when his emotions actually does how through, Eren has no idea what any of them _are_ , let alone what they mean.

 

But Levi says, “Hanji would like that,” and Eren thinks that he would love to learn.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you or anyone you know is struggling with an eating disorder you can visit http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/find-help-support  
> As well as some suicide help hotlines (http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/) because I've had people say to me that they've sought out fics like this specifically because they were already triggered and I just want to help you all stay safe in this world.


End file.
